So it was that Madame Devaux had received Dufresne, who had been introduced to her by a friend of one of her neighbors; and as he was young and rather good-looking, she had included him in the list of the men whom she proposed to take to Edouard’s wedding, in order that her young ladies might not lack partners.
Dufresne knew neither the bridegroom nor his wife; but it often happens at a large party that one does not know the host; and now that our French receptions are adopting the style of English routs, and are becoming mere mobs, no one pays any heed to his neighbor, and it not infrequently happens that you leave those noisy functions without even saluting the host or the hostess.
Madame Devaux had made a mistake, however, in relying upon Dufresne to dance with her daughters. He cared little for dancing; he made haste to pay his debt by inviting each of the Devaux girls to dance once; but after that, he contented himself with the rôle of simple spectator, taking the precaution to go into the card room when the quadrilles were not full. He cast his eyes over all the guests in the salons, but they rested most frequently upon Edouard and Adeline; the sight of the husband and wife seemed to attract all his attention; he followed their movements; watched their slightest actions, and seemed to be trying to read the inmost thoughts of their hearts. When Adeline smiled fondly at her husband, Dufresne, standing a few steps away, observed that smile, and his eyes eagerly followed its development.
“Really, mamma,” said Cleopatra, the oldest of the daughters, to Madame Devaux, “we won’t take Monsieur Dufresne to a ball again; just see how he acts! he doesn’t dance! he looks like a bear!”
“That is true, my child! If he would only come and sit down by us and talk and pretend to be polite!”
“Oh, yes! why, he doesn’t pay the slightest attention to us! I should like to know what he is doing in that corner, near Madame Germeuil!”
“He certainly is not agreeable, and I shall not take him to Monsieur Verdure’s the day after to-morrow, where there is to be music, and perhaps a collation. I will take little Godard; he is rather stupid, but at all events he will dance as long as anybody wants him to.”
“Yes, and he is always on hand to give us something to drink.”
“By the way, Cleopatra, who will go home with us to-night?”
“Why, I don’t know. Two of our gentlemen have gone away already; one had a headache, and the other wanted to go to bed early because he had an appointment for to-morrow morning. But we must have someone.”