d remarks, the
hoarse laughter, the boasting. Frantz and Desiree talked together in
undertones, hearing naught of what was said around them. Things that
happened in their childhood, anecdotes of the neighborhood, a whole
ill-defined past which derived its only value from the mutual memories
evoked, from the spark that glowed in the eyes of both-those were the
themes of their pleasant chat.

Suddenly the cloud was torn aside, and Delobelle's terrible voice
interrupted the dialogue.

"Have you not seen your brother?" he asked, in order to avoid the
appearance of neglecting him too much. "And you have not seen his wife,
either? Ah! you will find her a Madame. Such toilettes, my dear fellow,
and such chic! I assure you. They have a genuine chateau at Asnieres.
The Chebes are there also. Ah! my old friend, they have all left us
behind. They are rich, they look down on old friends. Never a word,
never a call. For my part, you understand, I snap my fingers at them,
but it really wounds these ladies."

"Oh, papa!" said Desiree hastily, "you know very well that we are too
fond of Sidonie to be offended with her."

The actor smote the table a violent blow with his fist.

"Why, then, you do wrong. You ought to be offended with people who seek
always to wound and humiliate you."

He still had upon his mind the refusal to furnish funds for his
theatrical project, and he made no secret of his wrath.

"If you knew," he said to Frantz, "if you knew how money is being
squandered over yonder! It is a great pity. And nothing substantial,
nothing sensible. I who speak to you, asked your brother for a paltry
sum to assure my future and himself a handsome profit. He flatly
refused. Parbleu! Madame requires too much. She rides, goes to the races
in her carriage, and drives her husband at the same rate as her little
phaeton on the quay at Asnieres. Between you and me, I don't think that
our good friend Risler is very happy. That woman makes him believe black
is white."

The ex-actor concluded his harangue with a wink at the comique and the
financier, and for a moment the three exchanged glances, conventional
grimaces, 'ha-has!' and 'hum-hums!' and all the usual pantomime
expressive of thoughts too deep for words.

Frantz was struck dumb. Do what he would, the horrible certainty
assailed him on all sides. Sigismond had spoken in accordance with his
nature, Delobelle with his. The result was the same.

Fortunately the dinner was dra