The punch had produced its effect on the nerves of the petite-maîtresse; she had felt the need of being refreshed; and after making sure that Murville was engaged in a serious game, which she thought unlikely to come to an end so soon, she had passed through the anteroom, where Charlot was, with her little finger at her ear; the groom, knowing what that meant, had followed close at his mistress’s heels, and we have seen what happened.
The boudoir was a long way from the salon; they had heard only a part of the tumult, to which indeed they were well accustomed. Charlot had paused a moment to listen, however; but his mistress, whose attention was not distracted, and who was intent upon her own affairs, had said lovingly:
“Go on, imbecile! What do you care for that? Let them fight.”
Edouard’s abrupt entrance did not disturb the groom; presuming that it was one of the gamblers who had been disputing below, and remembering what his mistress had said to him a moment before, Charlot continued his work without turning his head. As for Madame de Géran, seeing that it was no longer possible to deceive Edouard, she made the best of it, at the same time ignoring the interruption.
But Murville’s wrath, held in check a few seconds by his extreme surprise, soon burst forth with fury; he seized a fire-shovel and dealt Charlot several blows. The groom yelled that he was being murdered; Madame de Géran shrieked and Edouard shouted as loud as they did, and, weary of striking Charlot, threw the shovel at madame’s mirror.
The mirror was shattered and fell to the floor in splinters. Edouard swore and stormed, completely beside himself. Charlot wept, pressing his battered body; Madame de Géran called for help, because she was afraid for her other furniture and even for herself; in her terror she suddenly pushed the groom away and he rolled over against a washstand which he overturned; whereupon sponges, phials, essences and the bowl and pitcher fell on the floor; and at the uproar, the shrieks, the tears and the crashing of glass, a large proportion of the guests hurried to the scene and entered the boudoir.
They all expressed much surprise at sight of Madame de Géran in such great excitement, of the groom, in such unusual appearance, sprawling on the floor amid the débris of the mirror, the bowl and the phials, and of Edouard, who stalked amid the ruins with flashing eyes, as Achilles stalked about the ramparts of Troy, and seemed inclined to deluge everything with blood and fire.
They inquired what had happened, pushing, jostling, and asking questions, and by dint of trying to restore tranquillity, increased the confusion. The Marquis de Monclair held his handkerchief to his face, to preserve the remains of his nose; he swore that Murville was a madman who ought to be shut up. Desfleurets followed him, still holding in his hand a pack of cards with which he was preparing some private coup. He put in his pockets the phials and sponges that he found within reach, taking advantage of the confusion to restock his toilet table. A number of old coquettes gathered about Charlot, whose youth and other attractions interested them greatly. They examined the injuries and prescribed remedies. The young men assisted Madame de Géran to restore her composure; those who had retained the most self-possession tried to pacify Murville and insisted that explanations should precede fighting. The mistress of the house vouchsafed no other explanation than to demand the value of her mirror and toilet articles. Edouard called her a hussy and held everybody at arm’s length. Dufresne, who was always on hand in emergencies, pulled Edouard by the coat-tail and forced him to quit the boudoir, sorely against his will, leaving the others to laugh or cry as their private interests might dictate.
“You are a child!” said Dufresne when they were in the street; “why did you make such a row?”
“Why? why? Don’t you know that I have been betrayed, shamefully deceived, by that woman, who as I thought adored me? And for whom? for a servant!”