Every one had had his say in the group formed by the serious men at the middle of the table. Monsieur Michelin, the head of department, smiled and wagged his head; it was his usual way of joining in a conversation; he had smiles for greeting, for answering, for approving, for thanking, for wishing good-bye, quite a pretty collection of smiles which enabled him to dispense almost entirely with the use of his tongue, an arrangement he no doubt considered far more polite and more favourable to his own advancement.
Another personage also had remained silent—that was Baron Gouraud, who was slowly chewing like a drowsy ox. Up till then he had appeared absorbed in the contemplation of his plate. Renée, full of little attentions towards him, only obtained faint grunts of satisfaction. Therefore every one was surprised to see him raise his head and to hear him observe, as he wiped his greasy lips:
"I am a landlord, and when I do up and re-decorate any apartments, I raise the rent."
Monsieur Haffner's remark: "Our children will pay," had succeeded in awakening the senator. They all discreetly applauded, and Monsieur de Saffré exclaimed:
"Ah! charming, charming! I shall send that to-morrow to the newspapers."
"You are quite right, gentlemen, we live in good times," said the worthy Mignon by way of conclusion amidst the smiles and the praise which the baron's observation had called forth. "I know more than one who have nicely built up their fortunes. Everything is lovely, you see, when it enables one to make money."
These last words quite froze the grave men. The conversation stopped short, and each one seemed to avoid looking at his neighbour. The mason's remark unfortunately might have been applied to all these gentlemen. Michelin, who was just then looking at Saccard in a most agreeable manner, suddenly ceased smiling, greatly afraid of having appeared for a moment to apply the contractor's words to the master of the house. The latter glanced at Madame Sidonie, who once more monopolised Mignon, saying: "So you are fond of pink, sir?"—Then Saccard paid Madame d'Espanet a long compliment; his dark, mean-looking face almost touched the milky shoulders of the young woman as she leant back in her chair and laughed.
They had now arrived at the dessert. The lackeys turned more quickly round the table. There was a slight pause whilst the cloth was being covered with the rest of the fruit and the sweetmeats. At Maxime's end the laughter was becoming more silvery; one could hear Louise's shrill voice saying: "I assure you that Sylvia wore a blue satin dress in her part of Dindonnette;" and another childish voice added: "Yes, but the dress was trimmed with white lace." The air was laden with the warm fumes from the dishes. The faces of the guests had assumed a rosier hue, and seemed softened by an internal beatitude. Two lackeys made the round of the table, filling the glasses with Alicant and Tokay.
Ever since the commencement of the dinner, Renée had seemed absent-minded. She fulfilled her duties as mistress of the house with a mechanical sort of smile. At each burst of mirth which came from the end of the table where Maxime and Louise were sitting side-by-side joking like two comrades, she cast a glistening glance in their direction. She felt dreadfully bored. The serious men were too much for her. Madame d'Espanet and Madame Haffner looked at her in despair.
"And the coming elections, how do they promise to turn out?" suddenly inquired Saccard of Monsieur Hupel de la Noue.