rrived in the midst of his explanation. First of all M. Paul de
Gremonville, the diplomatist whom he met at the ball; then Fumichon,
that manufacturer whose conservative zeal had scandalised him one
evening. After them came the old Duchesse de Montreuil Nantua.

But two loud voices in the anteroom reached his ears. They were that of
M. de Nonancourt, an old beau with the air of a mummy preserved in cold
cream, and that of Madame de Larsillois, the wife of a prefect of Louis
Philippe. She was terribly frightened, for she had just heard an organ
playing a polka which was a signal amongst the insurgents. Many of the
wealthy class of citizens had similar apprehensions; they thought that
men in the catacombs were going to blow up the Faubourg Saint-Germain.
Some noises escaped from cellars, and things that excited suspicion were
passed up to windows.

Everyone in the meantime made an effort to calm Madame de Larsillois.
Order was re-established. There was no longer anything to fear.

"Cavaignac has saved us!"

As if the horrors of the insurrection had not been sufficiently
numerous, they exaggerated them. There had been twenty-three thousand
convicts on the side of the Socialists--no less!

They had no doubt whatever that food had been poisoned, that Gardes
Mobiles had been sawn between two planks, and that there had been
inscriptions on flags inciting the people to pillage and incendiarism.

"Aye, and something more!" added the ex-prefect.

"Oh, dear!" said Madame Dambreuse, whose modesty was shocked, while she
indicated the three young girls with a glance.

M. Dambreuse came forth from his study accompanied by Martinon. She
turned her head round and responded to a bow from Pellerin, who was
advancing towards her. The artist gazed in a restless fashion towards
the walls. The banker took him aside, and conveyed to him that it was
desirable for the present to conceal his revolutionary picture.

"No doubt," said Pellerin, the rebuff which he received at the Club of
Intellect having modified his opinions.

M. Dambreuse let it slip out very politely that he would give him orders
for other works.

"But excuse me. Ah! my dear friend, what a pleasure!"

Arnoux and Madame Arnoux stood before Frederick.

He had a sort of vertigo. Rosanette had been irritating him all the
afternoon with her display of admiration for soldiers, and the old
passion was re-awakened.

The steward came to announce that dinner was on the tabl