"You would be very amiable, sir," she said to him with an adorable smile, "if you would find me a chair! I have been round the table fruitlessly—"
The prefect had a spite against the marchioness but his gallantry did not hesitate; he hastened, found a chair, installed Madame d'Espanet and remained behind her, serving her. She would only take a few shrimps with a little butter and two thimblefuls of champagne. She eat in a delicate manner amid the gluttony of the men. The table and the chairs were exclusively reserved for the ladies. However an exception was always made in favour of Baron Gouraud. He was there seated at ease, in front of a bit of pastry the crust of which he crunched with his jaws. The marchioness re-conquered the prefect by telling him that she should never forget her emotions as an artiste in the "Amours of handsome Narcissus and the nymph Echo." She even explained to him why they had not waited for him at the last tableau in a manner which completely consoled him: the ladies on learning that the minister was there had thought that it would hardly be proper to prolong the interval. She ended by begging him to go in search of Madame Haffner who was dancing with Monsieur Simpson, a brute of a man who displeased her, she said. And when Suzanne was there she no longer looked at Monsieur Hupel de la Noue.
Saccard, followed by Messieurs Toutin-Laroche, De Mareuil and Haffner, had taken possession of a sideboard. As there was no room at the table and Monsieur de Saffré passed by with Madame Michelin on his arm he detained them, and insisted that the pretty brunette should share with his party. She nibbled some pastry, smiling, raising her clear eyes on the five men who surrounded her. They leaned towards her, touched her alme's veils embroidered with threads of gold, brought her to bay between themselves and the sideboard, against which she ended by leaning, taking cakes from every hand, very gentle and very caressing, and showing the loving docility of a slave amid her masters. All by himself, at the other end of the room, Monsieur Michelin was finishing a terreen of goose's liver which he had succeeded in capturing.
Madame Sidonie, who had been prowling about the ball since the first bow strokes, now entered the dining-room and summoned Saccard with a glance.
"She isn't dancing," she said to him in a low voice. "She seems anxious. I think she is meditating some bit of folly. But I have not yet been able to discover the swain. I am going to eat something and then return to the watch."
And standing like a man, she eat a chicken's wing, which she procured, thanks to Monsieur Michelin who had finished his terreen. She poured herself out some Malaga in a large champagne glass; then, after wiping her mouth with the tips of her fingers, she returned to the drawing-room. The train of her sorceress's robe already seemed to have gathered up all the dust of the carpets.
The ball was languishing, and the orchestra gave signs of being blown, when a murmur sped about: "The cotillon! the cotillon!" and revived the dancers and the brass instruments alike. Couples came from all the clumps of plants in the conservatory; the large drawing-room grew as full as when the first quadrille was danced; and there was a discussion among the awakened crowd. It was the last flash of the ball. The men who did not dance looked with sluggish good nature out of the depths of the embrasures at the talkative group swelling in the middle of the room; while the supper-eaters at the sideboards stretched out their necks to see, but without letting go of their bread.
"Monsieur de Mussy won't," said one lady. "He swears that he no longer leads it. Come, once more, Monsieur de Mussy, only this once. Do it for us."
But the young embassy attaché remained stiff in his high collar turned down at the points. It was really impossible, he had sworn. There was a disappointment. Maxime also refused, saying that he couldn't, that he was tired out. Monsieur Hupel de la Noue did not dare to offer himself; he only descended as far as poetry. On a lady speaking of Monsieur Simpson she was silenced; Monsieur Simpson was the strangest cotillon leader one over saw; he gave himself up to fantastic and malicious devices; it was related that in one drawing-room where the guests had been so imprudent as to choose him, he had compelled the ladies to jump over the chairs, and one of his favourite figures was to make everyone go round the room on all fours.
"Has Monsieur de Saffré left?" asked a childish voice.