Then, the procession slowly formed. Saccard gave his arm to the little marchioness; Renée took an old gentleman's, a senator, Baron Gouraud, before whom everyone bowed down with great humility; as for Maxime, he was obliged to offer his arm to Louise de Mareuil; then followed the rest of the guests, in couples, and right at the end the two contractors swinging their arms.
The dining-room was a vast square apartment with a high dado all round of stained and varnished pear-tree ornamented with thin fillets of gold. The four large panels had probably been intended to be filled with paintings of inanimate objects; but they had remained empty, the owner of the mansion having no doubt hesitated before a purely artistical outlay. They had simply been covered over with dark green velvet. The furniture, the curtains and the door-hangings of the same material, gave to the room a grave and sober appearance calculated to concentrate on the table all the splendour of the illumination.
And indeed, at this hour, in the centre of the vast sombre Turkey carpet which deadened the sound of the footsteps, beneath the glaring light of the chandelier, the table, surrounded by chairs, the black backs of which relieved by fillets of gold framed it with a dark line, appeared like an altar, like some illuminated chapel, as the bright scintillations of the crystal glass and the silver plate sparkled on the dazzling whiteness of the cloth. In the floating shadow beyond the carved chair backs, one could just catch a glimpse of the wainscotting, of a large low sideboard, and of portions of velvet hangings trailing about. One's eyes forcibly returned to the table, and became filled with all this splendour. An admirable unpolished silver epergne glittering with chased work occupied the centre; it represented a troop of fauns bearing away some nymphs; and, issuing from an immense cornucopia above the group, an enormous bouquet of natural flowers hung down in clusters. At either end of the table were some vases also containing bunches of flowers; two candelabra matching the centre group, and each consisting of a satyr in full flight bearing on one arm a swooning woman, whilst with the other he grasped a ten-branched candelabrum, added the bright light of their candles to the radiance of the central chandelier. Between these principal objects the hot dishes, both large and small, bearing the first course, were symmetrically arranged in lines, flanked by shells filled with the hors-d'œuvre, and separated by china bowls, crystal vases, flat plates and tall comports, containing all of the dessert placed upon the table. Along the line of plates, the army of glasses, the water-bottles, the decanters, the tiny salt-cellars, in fact the whole of the glass was as thin and slender as muslin, uncut and so transparent that it did not cast the least shadow. And the epergne, and the other large ornaments looked like fountains of fire; the polished sides of the dishes sparkled; the forks, the spoons, and the knives with mother-of-pearl handles were so many bars of flame; rainbows illuminated the glasses; and, in the midst of this shower of sparks, of this incandescent mass, the decanters of wine cast a ruby glow over the cloth which seemed heated to a white heat.
On entering, an expression of discreet beatitude overspread the countenances of the gentlemen who were smiling to the ladies on their arms. The flowers gave a freshness to the warm atmosphere. Slight fumes from the dishes hung about and mingled with the perfume of the roses. And the tart smell of crawfish with the sourish odour of lemons dominated all.
Then, when everyone had found his name written on the backs of the bills of fare, there was a noise of chairs, a great rustling of silk dresses. The bare shoulders studded with diamonds, and flanked by black dress coats which set off their paleness, added their milky whiteness to the radiance of the table. The dinner commenced in the midst of smiles exchanged between neighbours, in a semi-silence as yet only broken by the gentle rattling of the spoons. Baptiste performed the duties of butler with the grave manners of a diplomatist; he had under his orders, besides the two footmen, four assistants whom he engaged only for the grand dinner parties. At each dish which he took to cut up on a side-table at the end of the room, three of the servants passed noiselessly behind the guests, dish in hand, and offering in a low voice the viands by name. The others poured out the wines, attended to the bread and the decanters. The relevés and the entrées were thus slowly discussed and removed, without the ladies' pearly laughter becoming a whit more shrill.
The guests were too numerous for the conversation to easily become general. Yet, at the second course, when the roasts and the side-dishes had replaced the relevés and the entrées, and the grand Burgundy wines, Pomard and Chambertin, had succeeded to the Léoville and Château-Lafitte, the sound of the voices swelled, and bursts of laughter caused the slender glasses to tinkle. Renée, seated at the middle of the table, had Baron Gouraud on her right, and on her left Monsieur Toutin-Laroche, a retired candle manufacturer, at that time a municipal councillor, a director of the Crédit Viticole and member of the board of supervision of the Société Générale of the ports of Morocco, a scraggy and important individual, whom Saccard, seated opposite between Madame d'Espanet and Madame Haffner, addressed at one moment in flattering tones as, "My dear colleague," and at another as, "Our great administrator." Then came the politicians: Monsieur Hupel de la Noue, a prefect who spent eight months of the year in Paris; three deputies, amongst whom Monsieur Haffner displayed his broad Alsatian countenance; then Monsieur de Saffré, a charming young man, secretary to a cabinet minister; and Monsieur Michelin, the head of the commission of public ways; and other heads of department besides. Monsieur de Mareuil, a perpetual candidate for the Chamber of Deputies, faced the prefect, at whom he kept casting sheep's-eyes. As for Monsieur d'Espanet, he never accompanied his wife into society. The ladies of the family were placed between the most distinguished of these personages. Saccard had however reserved his sister Sidonie, whom he had seated farther away, between the two contractors—Monsieur Charrier being on the right and Monsieur Mignon on the left—as though at a post of trust where it was a question of vanquishing. Madame Michelin, the wife of the head of the commission of public ways, a pretty plump brunette, found herself beside Monsieur de Saffré with whom she was carrying on an animated conversation in a low voice. Then, at either end of the table were the young people, auditors attached to the Council of State, the sons of influential fathers, little sprouting millionaires, Monsieur de Mussy who kept casting despairing glances in the direction of Renée, and Maxime who seemed fast succumbing to Louise de Mareuil seated on his right. Little by little, they had taken to laughing very loudly. It was from their corner that the first gay notes were heard.
Meanwhile Monsieur Hupel de la Noue was gallantly inquiring:
"Shall we have the pleasure of seeing his excellency this evening?"
"I'm afraid not," answered Saccard with an important air which hid a secret annoyance. "My brother is so busy! He has sent us his secretary to excuse him."
The young secretary, whom Madame Michelin was most decidedly monopolizing, raised his head on hearing his name uttered, and thinking some one had spoken to him, exclaimed: