Gagniere glided in softly, like a
will-o'-the-wisp. He had come straight from Melun, and was quite alone,
for he never showed his wife to anybody. When he thus came to dinner he
brought the country dust with him on his boots, and carried it back with
him the same night on taking the last train. On the other hand, he did
not alter; or, rather, age seemed to rejuvenate him; his complexion
became fairer as he grew old.

'Hallo! Why, Gagniere's here!' exclaimed Sandoz.

Then, just as Gagniere was making up his mind to bow to the ladies,
Mahoudeau entered. He had already grown grey, with a sunken,
fierce-looking face and childish, blinking eyes. He still wore trousers
which were a good deal too short for him, and a frock-coat which creased
in the back, in spite of the money which he now earned; for the bronze
manufacturer for whom he worked had brought out some charming statuettes
of his, which one began to see on middle-class mantel-shelves and
consoles.

Sandoz and Claude had turned round, inquisitive to witness the meeting
between Mahoudeau and Mathilde. However, matters passed off very
quietly. The sculptor bowed to her respectfully, while Jory, the
husband, with his air of serene unconsciousness, thought fit to
introduce her to him, for the twentieth time, perhaps.

'Eh! It's my wife, old fellow. Shake hands together.'

Thereupon, both very grave, like people of society who are forced
somewhat over-promptly into familiarity, Mathilde and Mahoudeau shook
hands. Only, as soon as the latter had got rid of the job and had found
Gagniere in a corner of the drawing-room, they both began sneering and
recalling, in terrible language, all the abominations of yore.

Dubuche was expected that evening, for he had formally promised to come.

'Yes,' explained Henriette, 'there will only be nine of us. Fagerolles
wrote this morning to apologise; he is forced to go to some official
dinner, but he hopes to escape, and will join us at about eleven
o'clock.'

At that moment, however, a servant came in with a telegram. It was from
Dubuche, who wired: 'Impossible to stir. Alice has an alarming cough.'

'Well, we shall only be eight, then,' resumed Henriette, with the
somewhat peevish resignation of a hostess disappointed by her guests.

And the servant having opened the dining-room door and announced that
dinner was ready, she added:

'We are all here. Claude, offer me your arm.'

Sandoz took Mathilde's, Jory charged himself w