"Oh! don't try to excuse yourself!" cried Maxime chaffingly. "It's very meritorious at your age."
The young man who had just thrown away the stump of his cigar returned to the drawing-room. A great number of visitors had arrived. The gallery was full of men in evening dress standing up and conversing in low tones, and of ladies in ample skirts which they spread out on the couches. Some lackeys were taking round some silver salvers bearing ices and glasses of punch.
Maxime, who wished to speak to Renée, passed right through the drawing-room, knowing very well where to find the ladies' favourite spot. At the opposite end to the smoking-room was another round apartment adorably fitted up as a boudoir. Its curtains and hangings of satin, the colour of buttercups, gave it a voluptuous charm, of quite an original and exquisite taste. The lights of the chandelier, which was of very delicate workmanship, appeared quite pale amidst all this sun-like splendour. The effect resembled a flood of the subdued rays from a sunset on a field of ripe corn. The light expired at one's feet on an Aubusson carpet strewn with dead leaves. An ebony piano inlaid with ivory, two little cabinets the glass doors of which displayed a host of nicknacks, a Louis XVI. table, and a flowerstand holding an enormous sheaf of flowers, sufficed to furnish the room. The small couches, the easy-chairs and the settees, were covered with padded buttercup satin divided at intervals by broad black bands of the same material embroidered with gay coloured tulips. And there were also low seats, lounge-chairs, and every variety of stool, both elegant and fantastical. Not a glimpse of the woodwork of these articles was visible; the satin and the padding covered all. The backs were so curved as to be as comfortable as bolsters. They were like so many discreet beds on which one could sleep and love amidst the down, to the accompaniment of the sensual symphony of the pale yellow light.
Renée had an especial liking for this little room, one of the French windows of which opened into the magnificent conservatory fixed to the side of the mansion. During the day-time she spent most of her leisure hours there. Instead of softening her light hair, the yellow hangings gave it a strangely golden hue; her head stood out all pink and white in the midst of a dawn-like glimmer, like that of a fair Diana awakening at the break of day; and this was no doubt why she loved this little room which gave a heavenly setting to her beauty.
At this hour she was there with her intimate friends. Her sister and her aunt had just departed. There were none but madcaps in the sanctum. Leaning back in the depths of a sofa, Renée was listening to the secrets of her friend Adeline, who was whispering in her ear with feline playfulness and sudden bursts of laughter. Suzanne Haffner was in great request; she was holding her own against a group of young men who were pressing her closely, without losing any of her German languor, her provoking effrontery, as bare and cold as her shoulders. In a corner, Madame Sidonie was enlightening in a low voice a young woman with the eyes of a virgin. Farther off, Louise was standing talking with a big timid fellow who blushed violently; whilst Baron Gouraud was dozing in an easy-chair full in the light, displaying his flabby flesh, his pale elephantine form, in the midst of the frail graces and the silky daintiness of the ladies. And all about the room, on the stiff satin skirts shining like china, on the milky white shoulders studded with diamonds, a light of fairy-land fell in a golden dust. A soft voice, a laugh no louder than the cooing of a dove, had as limpid a ring as crystal. It was very warm in there. Fans were moving slowly to and fro like wings, disseminating at each breath in the sultry atmosphere the musked perfumes of the bodices.
When Maxime appeared in the doorway, Renée, who was listening to the marchioness in an absent-minded way, rose up hastily, pretending to have to play her part as mistress of the house. She passed into the principal drawing-room where the young man followed her. After smilingly taking a few steps there and shaking hands with different people, she drew Maxime aside.
"Well!" whispered she ironically, "the task seems an easy one; you don't appear to find courting as stupid as you imagined."
"I don't understand you," replied the young man, who was about to plead for Monsieur de Mussy.
"Why I think I did well not to deliver you from Louise. You don't waste any time, you two."
And she added with a sort of vexation: