Mme du Joncquoy, unable to recognize the various
rooms, had come in through the dining saloon. Mme Chantereau was gazing
with a stupefied expression at the garden, which struck her as immense.
Presently there was a sound of low voices, and the corner gave vent to
all sorts of bitter reflections.

"I declare," murmured Mme Chantereau, "just fancy if the countess were
to return to life. Why, can you not imagine her coming in among all
these crowds of people! And then there's all this gilding and this
uproar! It's scandalous!"

"Sabine's out of her senses," replied Mme du Joncquoy. "Did you see her
at the door? Look, you can catch sight of her here; she's wearing all
her diamonds."

For a moment or two they stood up in order to take a distant view of the
count and countess. Sabine was in a white dress trimmed with marvelous
English point lace. She was triumphant in beauty; she looked young
and gay, and there was a touch of intoxication in her continual smile.
Beside her stood Muffat, looking aged and a little pale, but he, too,
was smiling in his calm and worthy fashion.

"And just to think that he was once master," continued Mme Chantereau,
"and that not a single rout seat would have come in without his
permission! Ah well, she's changed all that; it's her house now. D'you
remember when she did not want to do her drawing room up again? She's
done up the entire house."

But the ladies grew silent, for Mme de Chezelles was entering the
room, followed by a band of young men. She was going into ecstasies and
marking her approval with a succession of little exclamations.

"Oh, it's delicious, exquisite! What taste!" And she shouted back to her
followers:

"Didn't I say so? There's nothing equal to these old places when one
takes them in hand. They become dazzling! It's quite in the grand
seventeenth-century style. Well, NOW she can receive."

The two old ladies had again sat down and with lowered tones began
talking about the marriage, which was causing astonishment to a good
many people. Estelle had just passed by them. She was in a pink silk
gown and was as pale, flat, silent and virginal as ever. She had
accepted Daguenet very quietly and now evinced neither joy nor sadness,
for she was still as cold and white as on those winter evenings when she
used to put logs on the fire. This whole fete given in her honor, these
lights and flowers and tunes, left her quite unmoved.

"An adventurer," Mme du Joncquoy was sayi