e Interior, sat heavily in an armchair,
dozing with his eyes open. But when one of the young men appeared to
doubt the truth of the anecdote Vandeuvres raised his voice.

"You are too much of a skeptic, Foucarmont; you'll spoil all your
pleasures that way."

And he returned to the ladies with a laugh. Last scion of a great
family, of feminine manners and witty tongue, he was at that time
running through a fortune with a rage of life and appetite which nothing
could appease. His racing stable, which was one of the best known in
Paris, cost him a fabulous amount of money; his betting losses at the
Imperial Club amounted monthly to an alarming number of pounds, while
taking one year with another, his mistresses would be always devouring
now a farm, now some acres of arable land or forest, which amounted, in
fact, to quite a respectable slice of his vast estates in Picardy.

"I advise you to call other people skeptics! Why, you don't believe a
thing yourself," said Leonide, making shift to find him a little space
in which to sit down at her side.

"It's you who spoil your own pleasures."

"Exactly," he replied. "I wish to make others benefit by my experience."

But the company imposed silence on him: he was scandalizing M. Venot.
And, the ladies having changed their positions, a little old man of
sixty, with bad teeth and a subtle smile, became visible in the depths
of an easy chair. There he sat as comfortably as in his own house,
listening to everybody's remarks and making none himself. With a slight
gesture he announced himself by no means scandalized. Vandeuvres once
more assumed his dignified bearing and added gravely:

"Monsieur Venot is fully aware that I believe what it is one's duty to
believe."

It was an act of faith, and even Leonide appeared satisfied. The young
men at the end of the room no longer laughed; the company were old
fogies, and amusement was not to be found there. A cold breath of wind
had passed over them, and amid the ensuing silence Steiner's nasal voice
became audible. The deputy's discreet answers were at last driving him
to desperation. For a second or two the Countess Sabine looked at the
fire; then she resumed the conversation.

"I saw the king of Prussia at Baden-Baden last year. He's still full of
vigor for his age."

"Count Bismarck is to accompany him," said Mme du Joncquoy. "Do you
know the count? I lunched with him at my brother's ages ago, when he
was representative of Pru