While such simple fare as cutlets and boiled eggs was being discussed by the company, Mme Hugon, as became a good housekeeper, launched out into complaints. The butchers, she said, were becoming impossible. She bought everything at Orleans, and yet they never brought her the pieces she asked for. Yet, alas, if her guests had nothing worth eating it was their own fault: they had come too late in the season.
“There’s no sense in it,” she said. “I’ve been expecting you since June, and now we’re half through September. You see, it doesn’t look pretty.”
And with a movement she pointed to the trees on the grass outside, the leaves of which were beginning to turn yellow. The day was covered, and the distance was hidden by a bluish haze which was fraught with a sweet and melancholy peacefulness.
“Oh, I’m expecting company,” she continued. “We shall be gayer then! The first to come will be two gentlemen whom Georges has invited—Monsieur Fauchery and Monsieur Daguenet; you know them, do you not? Then we shall have Monsieur de Vandeuvres, who has promised me a visit these five years past. This time, perhaps, he’ll make up his mind!”
“Oh, well and good!” said the countess, laughing. “If we only can get Monsieur de Vandeuvres! But he’s too much engaged.”
“And Philippe?” queried Muffat.
“Philippe has asked for a furlough,” replied the old lady, “but without doubt you won’t be at Les Fondettes any longer when he arrives.”
The coffee was served. Paris was now the subject of conversation, and Steiner’s name was mentioned, at which Mme Hugon gave a little cry.
“Let me see,” she said; “Monsieur Steiner is that stout man I met at your house one evening. He’s a banker, is he not? Now there’s a detestable man for you! Why, he’s gone and bought an actress an estate about a league from here, over Gumières way, beyond the Choue. The whole countryside’s scandalized. Did you know about that, my friend?”
“I knew nothing about it,” replied Muffat. “Ah, then, Steiner’s bought a country place in the neighborhood!”