These words brought a dreadful feeling of actuality into the company. It seemed as if the cold outside air had suddenly frozen this comfortable dining-room.
Instinctively M. d’Amberlard, who was completely bored, examined the windows to see if they were open. A shudder passed through the assembly, all of whom were haunted by the same vision: the picture of an old woman, already heavily tried by life’s sorrows, going home through the snow, contented and unsuspecting, to that home where news of death awaited her.
This inevitable catastrophe which was about to take place—which was perhaps taking place at this very moment—came home to them all even more than the glorious faraway death of Commander Guibert on African soil.
A sob from Alice broke the oppressive silence. In a frightened voice Isabelle murmured: “She knows by now.”
The mothers all broke down unreservedly, and Madame Dulaurens promptly resolved to comfort and console the poor woman in an early visit.
With all these solemn faces round him, Clément, who loved gaiety at table, at last recognised his thoughtlessness and admitted to himself, “Now I’ve done it!” His father, a slave to punctilio, without paying any attention to the rest of the conversation, returned to the discussion of an accessory point which he had not sufficiently developed.
“The mayor of Cognin should have gone to them and broken the news delicately, instead of just rudely sending a policeman,” he stated.
Profiting by the interposition of this enlightening remark, M. d’Amberlard thought it time to unburden himself of a protest which he had been keeping back with difficulty for some time.
“All our regrets can make no change,” he said, “and we might as well talk about something more cheerful. When I was in Paris I always used to ask if a play ended happily before I took seats for it. A party, like a comedy, should avoid all gloomy subjects.”
The Marquis de Lavernay quite agreed with this, and so death was forgotten. Champagne filled the gilded glasses. Flowers spread their perfume over the table which was laden with baskets of preserved fruits. The jewels of the women sparkled in the lights. It was a pleasure to recover the former luxurious and comfortable atmosphere which the unhappy news had disturbed. Alice and Isabelle were left alone in their distress.