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When Madame de Guilleroy had returned to her chair, in simple obedience to the natural duplicity of man he did not allow his gaze to rest longer on the fair profile of the young girl, who knitted opposite her mother, on the other side of the lamp.
As she seated herself on the divan, he asked with an air of interest: "Is all going well with your husband?" "Very well; he must be making a speech in the House at this very moment." "Ah! On what, pray?" "Oh no doubt on beets or on rape-seed oil, as usual!" Her husband, the Comte de Guilleroy, deputy from the Eure, made a special study of all questions of agricultural interest.
Their opinion formed a sort of code of correct form and their presence in a house gave it a true title of distinction. The Corbelles were relatives of the Comte de Guilleroy. "Well," said the Duchess in astonishment, "and your wife?" "One instant, one little instant," pleaded the Count. "There is a surprise: she is just about to come."
"Was she very much grieved?" he asked again. "Yes, very much, very much, but you know that the grief of eighteen years does not last long." After a silence Guilleroy resumed: "Where shall we dine, my dear fellow? I need to be cheered up, to hear some noise and see some movement." "Well, at this season, it seems to me that the Cafe des Ambassadeurs is the right place."
They were just disappearing among the throng when the Comtesse de Guilleroy, leaning on her daughter's arm, entered and looked around in search of Olivier Bertin. He saw them and hastened to meet them. As he greeted the two ladies, he said: "How charming you look to-day. Really, Nanette has improved very much. She has actually changed in a week."
We love a type, that is, the reunion in one single person of all the human qualities that may separately attract us in others." For him, the Comtesse de Guilleroy had been this type, and their long-standing liaison, of which he had not wearied, proved it to him beyond doubt.
Any attack, any criticism or allusion unfavorable to her friend's talent always threw the Countess into a passion. "Oh," said she, "men of Bertin's importance need not mind such rudeness." Guilleroy was astonished. "What!" he exclaimed, "a disagreeable article about Olivier! But I have not read it. On what page?"
But he remained stupefied before the livid and convulsed face of Madame de Guilleroy. Her large eyes, full of a sort of terror, gazed at her daughter and the painter. He approached her, suddenly touched with anxiety. "What is the matter?" he asked. "I wish to speak to you." Rising, she said quickly to Annette; "Wait a moment, my child; I have a word to say to Monsieur Bertin."
Bismarck alone might have a settled opinion on the subject. M. de Guilleroy entered, shook hands warmly, excusing himself in unctuous words for having left them alone. "And you, my dear Deputy," asked the painter, "what do you think of these rumors of war?" M. de Guilleroy launched into a discourse.
She detained him at the threshold of the ante-chamber to make some trifling explanation, while Musadieu, assisted by a footman, put on his topcoat. As Madame de Guilleroy continued to talk to Bertin, the Inspector of Fine Arts, having waited some seconds before the front door, held open by another servant, decided to depart himself rather than stand there facing the footman any longer.
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