“Hush, monsieur! all this is in execrable taste, and the portraits alone are enough to tell us what sort of people they represent—rich grocers, I fancy. Never mind; let us be very agreeable; we must dazzle all these people, and it ought not to be very difficult.”
Madame Droguet soon arrived, with her cap a little too much over one ear; but that gave the ex-vivandière a martial look which was not unbecoming to her.
Monsieur Droguet came at his wife’s heels, in a very short coat and a too long waistcoat, which lacked several buttons; but he had not had time to notice it.
They bestowed a most affable welcome on their new neighbors; it was easy to see that Thélénie’s genuine refinement produced a deep impression on Madame Droguet, who confounded herself in compliments and courtesies, at the same time saying to her husband in an undertone:
“Button yourself up!”
And he, thinking that his wife referred to his waistcoat, murmured with a contrite expression:
“The buttons are missing.”
Thélénie informed Madame Droguet that she proposed to give dinners, receptions, festivities of all sorts, and that she should hope for her company as well as her husband’s.
The corpulent dame was beside herself with joy, and Monsieur Droguet wrenched off one of the two remaining buttons of his waistcoat.
They then proceeded to discuss the question of the other persons to be invited. Madame Droguet named her own particular friends, and Thélénie asked with an indifferent air: