whom he had scarcely glanced
before--now inspired him with sudden interest. The senator was a
thoroughly up-to-date man who did not classify glory nor distinguish
reputations. It was enough for him that a name should be on everybody's
lips for him to accept it with enthusiasm. When Julio responded to his
invitation, he presented him with pride to his friends, and came very
near to calling him "dear master." The tango was monopolizing all
conversation nowadays. Even in the Academy they were taking it up in
order to demonstrate that the youth of ancient Athens had diverted
itself in a somewhat similar way. . . . And Lacour had dreamed all his
life of an Athenian republic.

At these reunions, Desnoyers became acquainted with the Lauriers. He was
an engineer who owned a motor-factory for automobiles in the outskirts
of Paris--a man about thirty-five, tall, rather heavy and silent, with
a deliberate air as though he wished to see deeply into men and
things. She was of a light, frivolous character, loving life for the
satisfactions and pleasures which it brought her, appearing to accept
with smiling conformity the silent and grave adoration of her husband.
She could not well do less with a man of his merits. Besides, she had
brought to the marriage a dowry of three hundred thousand francs, a
capital which had enabled the engineer to enlarge his business. The
senator had been instrumental in arranging this marriage. He was
interested in Laurier because he was the son of an old friend.

Upon Marguerite Laurier the presence of Julio flashed like a ray of
sunlight in the tiresome salon of Lacour. She was dancing the fad of the
hour and frequenting the tango teas where reigned the adored Desnoyers.
And to think that she was being entertained with this celebrated and
interesting man that the other women were raving about! . . . In order
that he might not take her for a mere middle-class woman like the other
guests at the senator's party, she spoke of her modistes, all from the
rue de la Paix, declaring gravely that no woman who had any self-respect
could possibly walk through the streets wearing a gown costing less than
eight hundred francs, and that the hat of a thousand francs--but a few
years ago, an astonishing novelty--was nowadays a very ordinary affair.

This acquaintanceship made the "little Laurier," as her friends called
her notwithstanding her tallness, much sought by the master of the
dance, in spite of the looks of