This was sometimes done, according to the Vicomte.
"Oh! no. Never!"
"Yes, indeed; I assure you!"
"Ha! you see!"
The look with which she accompanied these words meant: "This is a rich man—pay attention to what he says!"
Meantime, the door was opening every moment; the waiters kept shouting; and on an infernal piano in the adjoining room some one was strumming a waltz. Then the races led to a discussion about horsemanship and the two rival systems. Cisy was upholding Baucher and Frederick the Comte d'Aure when Rosanette shrugged her shoulders:
"Enough—my God!—he is a better judge of these things than you are—come now!"
She kept nibbling at a pomegranate, with her elbow resting on the table. The wax-candles of the candelabrum in front of her were flickering in the wind. This white light penetrated her skin with mother-of-pearl tones, gave a pink hue to her lids, and made her eyeballs glitter. The red colour of the fruit blended with the purple of her lips; her thin nostrils heaved; and there was about her entire person an air of insolence, intoxication, and recklessness that exasperated Frederick, and yet filled his heart with wild desires.
Then, she asked, in a calm voice, who owned that big landau with chestnut-coloured livery.
Cisy replied that it was "the Comtesse Dambreuse"