Saulvard had vainly attempted at first to merge the other elements of the assembly. He had had to give it up in the face of resistance.
Thus high finance and great industry and their satellites formed a compact clan in the right-hand corner of the first drawing-room. They laughed, cackled and chattered, and were sufficient unto themselves; the minute a stranger dared to break in, seeking a chair or a little more elbow room, in short, the slightest opening, this group assumed dark countenances. They had a welcome for none but the representatives of the aristocracy. The latter, however, were massed a little away from them; they formed a small élite, had closed their ranks after the necessary greetings, and henceforth affected to ignore their jovial neighbors, reserving for each other their cordiality and their smiles. Apart from a few noblemen whom the smell of blood or the need for financial advice moved to approach the other clan, the aristocratic group remained effectively faithful to its principles of separatism and its arrogant virtuosity.
The Academicians also kept their distance. The five sections of the Institute kept to their circle but did not fraternize. They hardly even exchanged brief amenities or passed chairs to each other in order to avoid any promiscuity with the Academy of Medicine—intruders who were signaled to all by a volatile smell of iodoform or phenol brought in their clothing.
The literary men and their wives had constituted a close circle with the groups of painters and musicians. But even that brought forth constraint or reciprocal animosity.
The result was that Saulvard, who stood on duty near the door, assumed more and more the air of a guardian of a public dancing hall, or the controller of a casino who checked the entrance of the subscribers and jollied equally all his diverse classes of patrons.
He was short and bald; his yellow face was framed by two short white whiskers—the face of a Japanese turned butler; he smiled ceaselessly, bowed and straightened himself up again; he hopped on his high pointed heels as if waiting, or thanking for, a tip. He murmured, following them five or six steps, appropriate flatteries to all his invited guests, as soon as they reached the doorstep. His glances wandered round, discreet and confidential. From afar one might have thought that he was showing the newcomers the way to the cloakroom.
As soon as the Raindal family appeared, he nimbly rose to meet them.
“Ah, my dear colleague!... What joy!... I was almost despairing....”
His two hands caught that of M. Raindal and he went on:
“I have not seen you since your success!... What a triumph!... What a beautiful book!... Madame.... Mademoiselle....”