Here Madame de la Beaume, a young and pretty matron, possessed of a good-looking husband who did not trouble her much with his company, was the centre of a gaily cackling little crowd, not unlike an assemblage of geese beside a stream at eventide. Young M. de Louvois was there and the old Duchesse de Pontchartrain, also M. Crébillon, the most inveterate scandal-monger of his time, and several others.
They all talked in whispers, glad that the music drowned every echo of this most enjoyable conversation.
"I have it from my coiffeur, whose son was on duty in an adjacent room, that there was a violent quarrel between them," said Madame de la Beaume with becoming mystery. "The man says that Madame Lydie screamed and raged for half an hour, then flew out of the room and along the passages like one possessed."
"These English are very peculiar people," said M. Crébillon sententiously. "I have it on M. de Voltaire's own authority that English husbands always beat their wives, and he spent some considerable time in England recently studying their manners and customs."
"We may take it for granted that milor Eglinton, though partly civilized through his French parentage, hath retained some of his native brutality," added another cavalier gravely.
"And it is quite natural that Madame Lydie would not tolerate his treatment of her," concluded the old Duchess.
"Ah!" sighed Madame de la Beaume pathetically, "I believe that English husbands beat their wives only out of jealousy. At least, so I have been told, whereas ours are too often unfaithful to feel any such violent and uncomfortable pangs."
"Surely," quoth young M. de Louvois, casting an admiring glance at Madame's bold décolletage, "you would not wish M. de la Beaume to lay hands on those beautiful shoulders."
"Heu! heu!" nodded Madame enigmatically.
M. Crébillon cast an inquisitorial look at Madame de Stainville, who was standing close by.