ome to
support her any member of the family to which she belonged, and she had
not joined either of the two sets into which, since 1870, the society of
the city was divided. Of too modern a mind and of a manner too bold, she
had not been received by the admirable woman who reigns at the Quirinal,
and who had managed to gather around her an atmosphere of such noble
elevation.

These causes would have brought about a sort of semi-ostracism, had the
Countess not applied herself to forming a salon of her own, the recruits
for which were almost altogether foreigners. The sight of new faces, the
variety of conversation, the freedom of manner, all in that moving world,
pleased the thirst for diversion which, in that puissant, spontaneous,
and almost manly immoral nature, was joined with very just
clear-sightedness. If Julien paused for a moment surprised at the door of
the hall, it was not, therefore, on finding it empty at the end of the
season; it was on beholding there, among the inmates, Peppino Ardea, whom
he had not met all winter. Truly, it was a strange time to appear in new
scenes when the hammer of the appraiser was already raised above all
which had been the pride and the splendor of his name. But the
grand-nephew of Urban VII, seated between sublime Fanny Hafner, in pale
blue, and pretty Alba Steno, in bright red, opposite Madame Maitland, so
graceful in her mauve toilette, had in no manner the air of a man crushed
by adversity.

The subdued light revealed his proud manly face, which had lost none of
its gay hauteur. His eyes, very black, very brilliant, and very unsteady,
seemed almost in the same glance to scorn and to smile, while his mouth,
beneath its brown moustache, wore an expression of disdain, disgust, and
sensuality. The shaven chin displayed a bluish shade, which gave to the
whole face a look of strength, belied by the slender and nervous form.
The heir of the Castagnas was dressed with an affectation of the English
style, peculiar to certain Italians. He wore too many rings on his
fingers, too large a bouquet in his buttonhole, and above all he made too
many gestures to allow for a moment, with his dark complexion, of any
doubt as to his nationality. It was he who, of all the group, first
perceived Julien, and he said to him, or rather called out familiarly:

"Ah, Dorsenne! I thought you had gone away. We have not seen you at the
club for fifteen days."

"He has been working," replied Hafner, "at s