the eye by their power of perfection. The public felt that
they were looking at something good and rare; that two great artists in
their own profession were showing them their best, all of skill,
cunning, thought-out science and physical ability that it was possible
for two masters to put forth. No one spoke now, so closely were they
watched. Then, when they shook hands after the last hit, shouts of
bravoes broke out. People stamped and yelled. Everyone knew their
names--they were Sergent and Ravignac.

The excitable grew quarrelsome. Men looked at their neighbors with
longings for a row. They would have challenged one another on account of
a smile. Those who had never held a foil in their hand sketched attacks
and parries with their canes.

But by degrees the crowd worked up the little staircase. At last they
would be able to get something to drink. There was an outburst of
indignation when they found that those who had got up the ball had
stripped the refreshment buffet, and had then gone away declaring that
it was very impolite to bring together two hundred people and not show
them anything. There was not a cake, not a drop of champagne, syrup, or
beer left; not a sweetmeat, not a fruit--nothing. They had sacked,
pillaged, swept away everything. These details were related by the
servants, who pulled long faces to hide their impulse to laugh right
out. "The ladies were worse than the gentlemen," they asserted, "and
ate and drank enough to make themselves ill." It was like the story of
the survivors after the sack of a captured town.

There was nothing left but to depart. Gentlemen openly regretted the
twenty francs given at the collection; they were indignant that those
upstairs should have feasted without paying anything. The lady
patronesses had collected upwards of three thousand francs. All expenses
paid, there remained two hundred and twenty for the orphans of the Sixth
Arrondissement.

Du Roy, escorting the Walter family, waited for his landau. As he drove
back with them, seated in face of Madame Walter, he again caught her
caressing and fugitive glance, which seemed uneasy. He thought: "Hang it
all! I fancy she is nibbling," and smiled to recognize that he was
really very lucky as regarded women, for Madame de Marelle, since the
recommencement of their amour, seemed frantically in love with him.

He returned home joyously. Madeleine was waiting for him in the
drawing-room.

"I have some news," said she.