“Mon Dieu! my dear Blémont, don’t speak of it. I was distressed to death, but my mother-in-law declared that the Girauds had manners which would be entirely out of place with her family, and she would not allow me to invite them.”
“But Madame de Beausire used to go to their house, if I remember aright?”
“Yes, but since the little Giraud girl stuck her tongue out at her, she has sworn that she will never put her foot inside their door.”
“I thought that Giraud was instrumental in arranging your marriage?”
“True, he did start the business.”
“And you haven’t invited him? He will never forgive you as long as he lives.”
“What could I do? My mother-in-law—But excuse me, I believe that she is motioning to me.”
We left Bélan, and I danced with my Eugénie. We were happy to dance together, to be again in those rooms which had been the scene of our own wedding. Our eyes expressed love and contentment. Surely we looked more as if we were at a wedding than anybody else there.
To dance is the best thing that one can do at a ball where one knows nobody. All those Beausires, who stalked solemnly about the quadrilles, and the old aunts who sat against the wall, seemed almost displeased to see other people apparently enjoying themselves. I felt sure that they considered us very ill-bred.
Eugénie proposed to me that we should go before the supper; but I preferred to remain, because I expected that there would be some amusing scenes at the close of the festivity. The supper was not served as mine was; the ladies alone were seated, and the men had to stand behind them. Madame de Beausire insisted upon having it so, because it was much less jolly than sitting at small tables.