"I am here, monsieur," said the ex-apothecary, in a hoarse voice, showing his face from behind the curtains.
"What are you doing there, a mile away from us all? Come out here, Monsieur Fondant. What's the news from Lyon? what do you hear there?"
Monsieur Fondant blushed to the ears, for he saw that the strangers were looking at him. He drew his handkerchief, blew his nose, moved his chair forward and back, and stammered at last, speaking through his nose to give himself confidence:
"How hot it is to-day!"
Luckily, Madame Chambertin returned, and her presence gave a different turn to the conversation. She had put on a thin muslin waist, trimmed with lace; she wore no hair other than her own, which was not very becoming, but she had donned her diamond ear-rings and a superb pearl necklace, which made her very seductive in the eyes of Dubourg, who went to meet her, and, as he offered her his hand, tenderly squeezed the ends of her fingers; to which she replied by a half-smile accompanied by a stifled sigh.
Monsieur Bidault had joined Ménard, whom he judged to be the man of letters, and repeated divers sentences from the Perfect Notary, accompanied by verses from the Almanach des Muses. Ménard, who, in his endeavor to copy Dubourg, sometimes assumed his self-sufficient tone, smiled patronizingly at Monsieur Bidault as he replied emphatically: "Studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant;" and Monsieur Bidault, who had forgotten Cicero when he was learning the Codes, replied by offering him a pinch of snuff.
Lunel, who had donned a short English jacket, in which he resembled a Limousin, announced that dinner was served.
Everybody rose; Dubourg offered his hand to Madame Chambertin, Frossard to Madame Bidault, and the others followed, Monsieur Fondant bringing up the rear.
They passed into a very handsome dining-room, where a sumptuous feast was spread. Ménard observed with satisfaction that there were four hors-d'œuvre, which always indicates a well-arranged dinner. Monsieur le baron was seated between Madame Bidault and Madame Chambertin; but his face was generally turned toward the latter, and the deep flush which from time to time overspread the cheeks of the hostess might have raised a presumption that her illustrious guest was talking to her under the table as well.
Ménard was between Messieurs Bidault and Fondant, the former of whom interlarded his conversation with insipid rhymes, while the other contented himself with filling his neighbor's glass. Ménard turned toward the ex-apothecary more frequently than toward the ex-notary.