ad thought very well dressed and
fashionable looking. And now, looking at himself carefully, he
recognized that really the general effect was satisfactory.

He studied himself as actors do when learning their parts. He smiled,
held out his hand, made gestures, expressed sentiments of astonishment,
pleasure, and approbation, and essayed smiles and glances, with a view
of displaying his gallantry towards the ladies, and making them
understand that they were admired and desired.

A door opened somewhere. He was afraid of being caught, and hurried
upstairs, filled with the fear of having been seen grimacing thus by one
of his friend's guests.

On reaching the second story he noticed another mirror, and slackened
his pace to view himself in it as he went by. His bearing seemed to him
really graceful. He walked well. And now he was filled with an unbounded
confidence in himself. Certainly he must be successful with such an
appearance, his wish to succeed, his native resolution, and his
independence of mind. He wanted to run, to jump, as he ascended the last
flight of stairs. He stopped in front of the third mirror, twirled his
moustache as he had a trick of doing, took off his hat to run his
fingers through his hair, and muttered half-aloud as he often did: "What
a capital notion." Then raising his hand to the bell handle, he rang.

The door opened almost at once, and he found himself face to face with a
man-servant out of livery, serious, clean-shaven, and so perfect in his
get-up that Duroy became uneasy again without understanding the reason
of his vague emotion, due, perhaps, to an unwitting comparison of the
cut of their respective garments. The man-servant, who had
patent-leather shoes, asked, as he took the overcoat which Duroy had
carried on his arm, to avoid exposing the stains on it: "Whom shall I
announce?"

And he announced the name through a door with a looped-back draping
leading into a drawing-room.

But Duroy, suddenly losing his assurance, felt himself breathless and
paralyzed by terror. He was about to take his first step in the world he
had looked forward to and longed for. He advanced, nevertheless. A fair
young woman, quite alone, was standing awaiting him in a large room,
well lit up and full of plants as a greenhouse.

He stopped short, quite disconcerted. Who was this lady who was smiling
at him? Then he remembered that Forestier was married, and the thought
that this pretty and elegant blonde