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A softened gaiety filled their hearts, they felt that it would be so delightful to dine there in the country, with that great river and that twilight for a setting, breathing that pure and fragrant air. The Marquise had taken Saval's arm, and Yvette, Servigny's. The four were alone by themselves. The two women seemed entirely different persons from what they were at Paris, especially Yvette.
The scarlet rose in the Marquise's hair had the appearance of a splash of purple fallen from the clouds upon her head. As Yvette looked on from her end, the Marquise rested, as if by carelessness, her bare hand upon Saval's hand; but the young girl made a motion and the Marquise withdrew her hand with a quick gesture, pretending to readjust something in the folds of her corsage.
It took him a long time to dress, very much perplexed as to what he ought to do, puzzled over what he should say to her, and wondering whether he ought to excuse himself or persevere. When he was ready, she had gone away all alone. He went back slowly, anxious and disturbed. The Marquise was strolling, on Saval's arm, in the circular path around the lawn.
The Marquise having taken Saval's arm, he took Yvette's, and they began to stroll about the lawn, appearing and disappearing every minute, behind the clumps of trees. Yvette walked with a thoughtful air, looking at the gravel of the pathway, appearing hardly to hear what her companion said and scarcely answering him. Suddenly she asked: "Are you truly my friend, Muscade?"
Servigny took Saval's arm and drew him away: "That is the latest serious suitor, Prince Kravalow. Isn't she superb?" "To my mind they are both superb. The mother would suffice for me perfectly," answered Saval. Servigny nodded and said: "At your disposal, my dear boy." The dancers elbowed them aside, as they were forming for a quadrille. "Now let us go and see the sharpers," said Servigny.
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