Notwithstanding the low tone of this conversation, Marianne heard it all. One by one, every one looked at this young woman who borrowed her golden tints from the rising sun. She bore the popular name of the new minister. She entered into prominence with him, accepting gracefully and unaffectedly the weight of his fame. Her timid, almost restless, uncertain smile, seemed to crave from the other women pardon for her own success, and there, surrounded by a group of men seated near the window, were two persons for whom chairs had just been placed, one of whom was a young, happy man, who exhaled an atmosphere of joy, and looked from time to time toward Adrienne and Marianne as if to see if the young wife were annoyed.
"Where is Monsieur Vaudrey then?" Marianne asked Madame Gerson.
"Why, he is just opposite to you! There on your right, beside Monsieur Collard, and he is devouring you with his glances."
"Ah, bah!" said Marianne with an indifferent smile.
And she looked in her turn.
She had, in fact, already noticed this very elegant man who had been watching her for some time.
But how could she know that he was Monsieur Vaudrey? He was delightful, moreover, sprightly in manner and of keen intelligence. A few moments before, she had heard him, as she passed by him under Sabine's guidance, utter some flattering remarks which had charmed her and made her smile.
Ah! that was Vaudrey?
She had often heard him spoken of. She had read of his speeches. She had even frequently seen his photograph in the stationers' windows.
The determined air of this young man, whom she knew to be eloquent, had pleased her. She ought then to have recognized him. He was exactly as his photographs represented him.