The ladies no longer slept. Some of them changed their costumes no fewer than three times. There were some interminable conferences, over which the prefect presided. The personage of Narcissus was at first discussed at length. Should a man or a woman personate him? At last, at the instance of Renée, it was decided that the part should be confided to Maxime, but he was to be the only man in the tableaux; and, indeed, Madame de Lauwerens declared that she would never have consented to it if "little Maxime had not been so like a real girl." Renée was to be the nymph Echo. The question of the costumes was far more complicated. Maxime gave a good lift up to the prefect, who was quite tired out amid nine women, whose mad imaginations threatened to grievously impair his conception's purity of lines. If he had listened to them, his Olympus would have worn powder. Madame d'Espanet absolutely wished a dress with a long skirt to hide her somewhat large feet, while Madame Haffner dreamt of dressing herself in a wild beast's skin. Monsieur Hupel de la Noue was energetic, and he even turned angry on one occasion; he was convinced, and he said that if he had renounced versification it was to write his poem "in cleverly combined stuffs and attitudes selected among the best."
"The harmony, ladies," repeated he at each fresh exigency, "you forget the harmony. I can't, however, sacrifice the entire work to the flounces you ask me for."
The conferences took place in the buttercup drawing-room. Entire afternoons were spent there, deciding on the cut of a skirt. Worms was summoned several times. At last everything was settled, the costumes decided on, the positions learnt, and Monsieur Hupel de la Noue declared himself satisfied. The election of Monsieur de Mareuil had given him less trouble.
The performance of the "Amours of handsome Narcissus and the nymph Echo," was to begin at eleven o'clock. The large drawing-room was already full at half-past ten, and as there was to be a ball afterwards, the ladies were there in costumes, seated in arm-chairs ranged in a semi-circle in front of the improvised stage—a platform, hidden by two broad curtains of red velvet with golden fringe, running on iron rods. The gentlemen stood behind, or moved to and fro. At ten o'clock, the upholsterers had struck the last nails home. The platform rose up at the end of the drawing-room, occupying a portion of this long gallery. Access to the stage was obtained by the smoking-room, converted into a green-room for the artistes. In addition, the ladies had at their disposal several apartments on the first floor, where an army of maids prepared the costumes of the different tableaux.
It was half-past eleven, and the curtains were not yet drawn aside. A loud buzz filled the drawing-room. The rows of arm-chairs were occupied by a most astonishing crowd of marchionesses, noble dames, milk-maids, Spanish beauties, shepherdesses, and sultanas; while the compact mass of dress-coats set a large dark stain beside the glistening of light stuffs and bare shoulders, glowing with the bright sparkle of jewellery. The women alone were in costume. It was already warm. The three chandeliers lit up the golden sheen of the drawing-room.
At last Monsieur Hupel de la Noue was seen to emerge from an opening on the left hand side of the platform. He had been assisting the ladies since eight o'clock in the evening. His dress-coat bore on the left sleeve the mark of three white fingers—a woman's little hand which had rested there after dabbling in a box of rice powder. But the prefect had something else than the mishaps of his attire to think about! He had huge eyes, and a swollen and somewhat pale face. He did not seem to see anyone. And advancing towards Saccard, whom he recognised among a group of grave-looking men, he said to him in an undertone:
"Dash it all! Your wife has lost her girdle of foliage. We are in a pretty pickle!"
He swore, and felt inclined to beat the people around him. Then, without waiting for a reply, without looking at anything, he turned his back, plunged under the draperies again and disappeared. The singular apparition of this gentleman made the ladies smile.
The group amid which Saccard found himself had gathered behind the last row of seats. One arm-chair had even been drawn out of the row for Baron Gouraud whose legs had for some time begun to swell. Monsieur Toutin-Laroche, whom the Emperor had just raised to the Senate, was there with Monsieur de Mareuil, whose second election the Chamber had deigned to accept, and Monsieur Michelin, decorated the day before; and a little in the rear were Mignon and Charrier, one of whom had a large diamond on his cravat, while the other displayed a still larger one on his finger. The gentlemen chatted together. Saccard left them for a moment to go and exchange a few words with his sister, who had just come in and seated herself between Louise de Mareuil and Madame Michelin. Madame Sidonie was dressed as a sorceress; Louise jauntily wore a page's costume which gave her the air of an urchin; little Michelin, made up as an alme, smiled in a love-sick manner amid her veils embroidered with golden threads.
"Do you know anything?" Saccard softly asked his sister.