Eve, moreover, like most of her
sex, was distrustful by instinct, even when reason failed to justify her
suspicions to herself. "Who can be so fond of Lucien that he could rouse
the town for him?" she wondered as she fell asleep. "The _Marguerites_
are not published yet; how can they compliment him on a future success?"

The ovation was, in fact, the work of Petit-Claud.

Petit-Claud had dined with Mme. de Senonches, for the first time, on the
evening of the day that brought the cure of Marsac to Angouleme with the
news of Lucien's return. That same evening he made formal application
for the hand of Mlle. de la Haye. It was a family dinner, one of the
solemn occasions marked not so much by the number of the guests as by
the splendor of their toilettes. Consciousness of the performance
weighs upon the family party, and every countenance looks significant.
Francoise was on exhibition. Mme. de Senonches had sported her most
elaborate costume for the occasion; M. du Hautoy wore a black coat; M.
de Senonches had returned from his visit to the Pimentels on the receipt
of a note from his wife, informing him that Mme. du Chatelet was to
appear at their house for the first time since her arrival, and that
a suitor in form for Francoise would appear on the scenes. Boniface
Cointet also was there, in his best maroon coat of clerical cut, with a
diamond pin worth six thousand francs displayed in his shirt frill--the
revenge of the rich merchant upon a poverty-stricken aristocracy.

Petit-Claud himself, scoured and combed, had carefully removed his gray
hairs, but he could not rid himself of his wizened air. The puny little
man of law, tightly buttoned into his clothes, reminded you of a torpid
viper; for if hope had brought a spark of life into his magpie eyes, his
face was icily rigid, and so well did he assume an air of gravity, that
an ambitious public prosecutor could not have been more dignified.

Mme. de Senonches had told her intimate friends that her ward would meet
her betrothed that evening, and that Mme. du Chatelet would appear
at the Hotel de Senonches for the first time; and having particularly
requested them to keep these matters secret, she expected to find
her rooms crowded. The Comte and Comtesse du Chatelet had left cards
everywhere officially, but they meant the honor of a personal visit to
play a part in their policy. So aristocratic Angouleme was in such
a prodigious ferment of curiosity, that certain of the