“Directors of the Academy of the Fine Arts!”
“Gentlemen of the Academy of Medicine!”
In grand gala dress, with his short hose and sword by his side, the chamberlain was announcing the arrivals in a mournful voice that resounded through the solemn drawing-rooms. As he called out, lines of black coats crossed the immense hall all red and gold and ranged themselves in a half-circle before the Minister, who stood with his back to the chimneypiece, having near him his Under-Secretary of State, M. de la Calmette, and his chief of cabinet, his foppish attachés and a few directors belonging to the Ministry such as Dansaert and Béchut. His Excellency addressed compliments and congratulations for the decorations and academic palms granted to some of those present, according as each organization arrived and was presented by its dean or president; then the organization turned right about and gave way to another set, some bodies retiring whilst others arrived, causing no little confusion at the doors of the hall.
For it was late; it was past one o’clock and each man was thinking of the breakfast which was waiting for him at home. In the concert hall which had been turned into a vestiary, impatient groups were looking at their watches, buttoning their gloves, adjusting their white cravats below their drawn faces; gaping and weariness, bad temper and hunger were on every side. Roumestan himself felt the weariness of this important day. He had lost his fine warmth of spirit shown at the same time last year, his faith in the future and in reform, and he let his little speeches off slowly, pierced through to his very marrow by the cold, despite the radiators and the enormous flaming wood fire; indeed, that little flaky snow which whirled about the panes of the windows seemed to fall upon his light heart and congeal it even as it fell upon the greensward of the garden.
“Gentlemen of the Comédie-Française!”
Closely shaved and solemn, distributing bows just as the fashion was in the grand epoch, they posed themselves in majestic attitudes about their dean, who in a cavernous voice presented the company, talked about the endeavors and vows the company had made—“the” company, without any epithet or qualifying word, just as we say “God” or as we say “the” Bible—exactly as if no other company existed in the world except that alone! And it must be said that poor Roumestan needs be very much enfeebled if this same company could not excite his eloquence and grand theatrical phrases, this company to which he himself seemed to belong with his bluish chin, his jowls and his distinguished but most conventional poses!
The fact was that for the last eight days, since the departure of Rosalie, he was like a gambler who has lost his mascot; he was frightened and suddenly felt himself inferior to his fortune and thus ready to be crushed. Mediocrities who have been favored by chance have such panics and nervous crises and they were increased in him by the terrible scandal which was about to break out, the scandal of a lawsuit for separation which the young wife insisted upon absolutely, notwithstanding all his letters and visits, his grovelling prayers and oaths. To keep up appearances it was said at the Ministry that Mme. Roumestan had gone to live with her father because of the near departure of Mme. Le Quesnoy and Hortense. But nobody was taken in by that, and the luckless man saw his adventure reflected in pity or curiosity or sarcasm from all these faces which were defiling before him, as well as from certain broadly marked smiles and from various shakes of the hand, a little more energetic than usual. There was not a single one of the lowest employees who had come to the reception in jacket and overcoat who was not thoroughly posted in this matter. Among the offices couplets were circulating from mouth to mouth in which Chambéry rhymed with Bachellery; more than one porter discontented with his pay was humming one of these couplets within himself whilst making a deep bow to his supreme chief.
Two o’clock! Still the organized bodies kept presenting themselves and the snow kept deepening whilst the man with the chains over his uniform introduced pell-mell and without any kind of order:
“Gentlemen of the School of Laws!”
“Gentlemen of the Conservatory of Music!”