were still more modern than those of
Urbain, and suited his mother better. She was angry with Urbain for
forsaking her business and hurrying off to Paris in search of his
worthless son; she was especially angry that he went without giving her
notice, or offering to do any of the thousand commissions she could
gladly have given him. However, these faults in Urbain only made Georges
more valuable; and it was with something not far short of fury that she
refused to listen to her husband when he suggested that the ball might
be put off because of the trouble and sorrow that hung over his cousins
at La Mariniere.

The ball was stately and splendid. At the dinner-party a few weeks
before, only a certain number of notables had been present, and chiefly
old friends of the family. To the ball came everybody of any pretension
whatever, within a radius of many miles. Lancilly stood in Anjou, but
near the borders of Touraine and Maine; all these old provinces were
well represented. Many of the guests were returned emigrants: old
sentiment connected with the names of Sainfoy and Lancilly brought them.
Many more were new people of the Empire; mushroom families, on whom the
older ones looked curiously and scornfully. There was a brilliant and
dashing body of officers from Sonnay-le-Loir, with General Ratoneau at
their head. There were a number of civil officials of the Empire, though
the Prefect himself was not there.

Ratoneau was in a strange state of mind. In his full-dress uniform, his
gold lace and plumes, he looked his best, a manly and handsome soldier.
Every one turned to look at him, struck by the likeness to Napoleon,
stronger than ever that night, for he was graver, quieter, more
dignified than usual. He was not at his ease, and oddly enough, the
false position suited him. There could not be anything but extreme
coolness and stiffness in the greeting between him and his host. Herve
de Sainfoy had refused the man his daughter, and heartily despised him
for accepting the formal invitation to this ball. Ratoneau knew that he
was going to be forced as a son-in-law on this coldly courteous
gentleman, but let no sign of his coming triumph escape him. Not, at
least, to Helene's father; her mother was a different story. As the
General drew himself upright again, after bending stiffly to kiss her
hand, he met his hostess's eyes with such a bold look of confident
understanding that she flushed a little and almost felt displeased. He