he evening
of our marriage?" she whispered to him, as the carriage was driven off
at a gallop.

He took her hands and pressed them.

"You still love me, don't you, Sulpice?--You believe too, that I love
you more than all the world?"

"Yes, I believe it!"

"You would kill me if I deceived you?--I, ah, if you deceived me, I do
not know what I should do.--Although I think that you are here, that I
hold you, that I love you, you may still belong to another woman--"

"Again! you have already said that. Are you mad?" said Sulpice. "See! we
have reached our destination."

Madame Gerson had brilliantly illuminated her house in Rue de Boulogne
with lights, filled it with flowers, and spread carpets everywhere to
receive the President of the Council. The house was too small to
accommodate the guests, who were about to be stifled therein. She packed
them into her dining-room. For the soiree which was to follow, she had
sounded the roll-call of her friends. She was bent on founding a new
salon, on showing Madame Marsy that she was not alone to be the rival of
Madame Evan.

Madame Gerson was not on friendly terms with Sabine Marsy. People were
ignorant as to the cause. Adrienne, who was not familiar with the
history of such little broils, was very much surprised to learn of this
fact.

"She claims that we take away all her _personnel_," said Madame Gerson.
"It is not my fault if people enjoy themselves at our house. I hope that
you will find pleasure here, Monsieur le President."

Vaudrey bowed. "Madame Gerson could not doubt it."

The guests sat down to dinner. Madame Gerson beamed with joy beside the
minister. Guy de Lissac, Warcolier, some senators and some deputies were
of the dinner party. Monsieur and Madame Gerson never spoke of them by
their names but: _Monsieur le Senateur, Monsieur le Depute!_ They
lubricated their throats with these titles, just as bourgeois who come
in contact with highnesses swell out in addressing a prince as
_Monseigneur_, absolutely as if they were addressing themselves.

Sulpice felt in the midst of this circle in which everything was
sacrificed to _chic_, as he invariably did, the painful sensation of a
man who is continually on show. He never dined out without running
against the same menu, the same fanfare, and the same conversation.

Monsieur Gerson endeavored to draw the President of the Council into
political conversation. He wished to know Vaudrey's opinion as to the
one-man b