Madame Dulaurens rushed up to him and scolded him well instead of satisfying her desire to kiss him. Since her daughter’s marriage she had insisted on playing a much larger part in her son’s life. He made no attempt to excuse himself, but laughed, melting like an icicle all the time.
“Oh, well, we got stuck at Cognin. Such a bad business!”
M. d’Amberlard tossed his head furiously.
“A nice business indeed,” he said. “Dinner kept waiting! He is talking very coolly about it, the young scoundrel.” He was still raging inwardly when Madame Dulaurens took his arm to go in to dinner. Clément made as though to offer his to Mademoiselle de Songeon, who stared at him scornfully and ordered him to go and dry himself.
“You are quite right, Mademoiselle de Songeon,” he replied philosophically. “But you aren’t very kind! I shall go and dry myself and change too.”
He disappeared, returning in his dinner-jacket as they were serving the filet of beef with mushrooms. With all the coolness of the rising generation, he asked loudly for soup and fish and made no attempt to make up for his delay.
As the courses succeeded one another harmoniously, the guests’ pleasure grew and the conversation became general. Clément, having satisfied his appetite, was burning to take part in it and attract the attention of the table. He watched his opportunity and called across the room: “I have some great news for you.”
“What is it?” they cried on all sides.
“I heard it at Cognin. I had it from my chauffeur, who heard it from the schoolmaster.”
“Cognin news,” said Isabelle ironically. “It will interest the whole of France!”