Yes, society in Paris was never so gay.
The salons were crowded, and politics was the theme. When the discussion waxed too warm, some one would start a hymn and all would chime in until the contestants were drowned out and in token of submission joined in the chorus.
But Madame De Stael was very busy all these days. Her house was filled with refugees, and she ran here and there for passports and pardons, and beseeched ministers and archbishops for interference or assistance or amnesty or succor and all those things that great men can give or bestow or effect or filch. And when her smiles failed to win the wished-for signature, she still had tears that would move a heart of brass.
About this time Baron De Stael fades from our vision, leaving with Madame three children.
"It was never anything but a 'mariage de convenance' anyway, what of it ?" and Madame bursts into tears and throws herself into Farquar's arms.
"Compose yourself, my dear—you are spoiling my gown," says the Duchesse.
"I stood him as long as I could," continued Madame.
"You mean he stood you as long as he could."
"You naughty thing!—why don't you sympathize with me?"
Then both women fall into a laughing fit that is interrupted by the servant, who announces Benjamin Constant.