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The Marquis de Rocdiane allowed the names of his inamoratas to be guessed by unmistakable hints society women whose names he did not utter, so that their identity might be the better surmised. The banker Liverdy indicated his flames by their first names. He would say: "I was at that time the best of friends with the wife of a diplomat.
Except for these sports of autumn and winter, they thought the country a bore. As Rocdiane would say: "I prefer little women to little peas!" The dinner was lively and jovial as usual, animated by discussions wherein nothing unforeseen occurs. Bertin, to arouse himself, talked a great deal. "Perhaps she will think it strange to see me again this evening," he thought.
Silence followed; then came a noise of seats being moved and chattering of voices, which dispelled this vapor of a dream, and he perceived, dozing around him, his four friends, relaxed from a listening attitude to the comfortable posture of sleep. "Well, what shall we do now?" he asked, after he had roused them. "I should like to sleep here a little longer," replied Rocdiane frankly.
"You haven't heard, have you, of the great scandal that is running all over town this evening?" inquired the Count pleasantly. As no one answered, he continued: "It seems that Rocdiane surprised his wife in a criminal situation, and has made her pay dearly for her indiscretion."
Rocdiane and Landa, to be sure, went hunting there, but among plains or woods they only enjoyed the pleasure of seeing pheasants, quail, or partridges falling like handfuls of feathers under their bullets, or little rabbits riddled with shot, turning somersaults like clowns, going heels over head four or five times, showing their white bellies and tails at every bound.
They rose from the table, their blood warmed and lashed by alcohol, ready to make any conquest; and they began to deliberate how to spend the evening, Bertin mentioning the Cirque, Rocdiane the Hippodrome, Maldant the Eden, and Landa the Folies-Bergere, when a light and distant sound of the tuning of violins reached their ears. "Ah, there is music at the club to-day, it seems," said Rocdiane.
The others smiled, and the landscape painter, Amaury Maldant, a thin little bald-headed man with a gray beard, said, with a sly expression: "I, too, always feel the rising of the sap in April; it makes me bring forth a few leaves half a dozen at most then it runs into sentiment; there never is any fruit." The Marquis de Rocdiane and the Comte Landa sympathized with him.
"Yes, magnificent." "Have you seen Rocdiane? He is down there. I was at his house just as he was getting out of bed. Oh, look at that anatomy!" A little gentleman was passing, bow-legged, with thin arms and flanks, the sight of whom caused the two old models of human vigor to smile disdainfully. Rocdiane approached them, having perceived the painter.
As the bottle became empty, all these gray-beards, as the younger members of the club called them, acquired red faces, and their kindling ardor awakened new desires. Rocdiane, after the coffee, became still more indiscreet, and forgot the society women to celebrate the charms of simple cocottes.
Others rested and chatted, still out of breath, red and perspiring, with handkerchief in hand to wipe off faces and necks; others, seated on a square divan that ran along the four sides of the hall, watched the fencing Liverdy against Landa, and the master of the club, Taillade, against the tall Rocdiane. Bertin, smiling, quite at home, shook hands with several men.
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