“That’s as monsieur pleases; wine is dear,” said Carabine, looking Gazonal over from head to foot, and thinking him in no way remarkable.
Gazonal, bewildered by the toilets, the lights, the gilding, the chatter of the various groups whom he thought to be discussing him, could only manage to stammer out the words: “Madame—madame—is—very good.”
“What do you manufacture?” said the mistress of the house, laughing.
“Say laces and offer her some guipure,” whispered Bixiou in Gazonal’s ear.
“La-ces,” said Gazonal, perceiving that he would have to pay for his supper. “It will give me the greatest pleasure to offer you a dress—a scarf—a mantilla of my make.”
“Ah, three things! Well, you are nicer than you look to be,” returned Carabine.
“Paris has caught me!” thought Gazonal, now perceiving Jenny Cadine, and going up to her.
“And I,” said the actress, “what am I to have?”
“All I possess,” replied Gazonal, thinking that to offer all was to give nothing.
Massol, Claude Vignon, du Tillet, Maxime de Trailles, Nucingen, du Bruel, Malaga, Monsieur and Madame Gaillard, Vauvinet, and a crowd of other personages now entered.