de Suif's entrance was
almost unnoticed. But the count whispered a gentle "Hush!" which made
the others look up. She was there. They suddenly stopped talking, and
a vague embarrassment prevented them for a few moments from addressing
her. But the countess, more practiced than the others in the wiles of
the drawing-room, asked her:

"Was the baptism interesting?"

The girl, still under the stress of emotion, told what she had seen and
heard, described the faces, the attitudes of those present, and even the
appearance of the church. She concluded with the words:

"It does one good to pray sometimes."

Until lunch time the ladies contented themselves with being pleasant
to her, so as to increase her confidence and make her amenable to their
advice.

As soon as they took their seats at table the attack began. First they
opened a vague conversation on the subject of self-sacrifice. Ancient
examples were quoted: Judith and Holofernes; then, irrationally enough,
Lucrece and Sextus; Cleopatra and the hostile generals whom she reduced
to abject slavery by a surrender of her charms. Next was recounted
an extraordinary story, born of the imagination of these ignorant
millionaires, which told how the matrons of Rome seduced Hannibal,
his lieutenants, and all his mercenaries at Capua. They held up to
admiration all those women who from time to time have arrested the
victorious progress of conquerors, made of their bodies a field of
battle, a means of ruling, a weapon; who have vanquished by their heroic
caresses hideous or detested beings, and sacrificed their chastity to
vengeance and devotion.

All was said with due restraint and regard for propriety, the effect
heightened now and then by an outburst of forced enthusiasm calculated
to excite emulation.

A listener would have thought at last that the one role of woman on
earth was a perpetual sacrifice of her person, a continual abandonment
of herself to the caprices of a hostile soldiery.

The two nuns seemed to hear nothing, and to be lost in thought. Boule de
Suif also was silent.

During the whole afternoon she was left to her reflections. But instead
of calling her "madame" as they had done hitherto, her companions
addressed her simply as "mademoiselle," without exactly knowing why, but
as if desirous of making her descend a step in the esteem she had won,
and forcing her to realize her degraded position.

Just as soup was served, Monsieur Follenvie reappeared, re