e. With a look
she directed the Vicomte to take Cecile's arm, while she said in a low
tone to Martinon, "You wretch!" And then they passed into the
dining-room.

Under the green leaves of a pineapple, in the middle of the table-cloth,
a dorado stood, with its snout reaching towards a quarter of roebuck and
its tail just grazing a bushy dish of crayfish. Figs, huge cherries,
pears, and grapes (the first fruits of Parisian cultivation) rose like
pyramids in baskets of old Saxe. Here and there a bunch of flowers
mingled with the shining silver plate. The white silk blinds, drawn down
in front of the windows, filled the apartment with a mellow light. It
was cooled by two fountains, in which there were pieces of ice; and tall
men-servants, in short breeches, waited on them. All these luxuries
seemed more precious after the emotion of the past few days. They felt a
fresh delight at possessing things which they had been afraid of
losing; and Nonancourt expressed the general sentiment when he said:

"Ah! let us hope that these Republican gentlemen will allow us to dine!"

"In spite of their fraternity!" Pere Roque added, with an attempt at
wit.

These two personages were placed respectively at the right and at the
left of Madame Dambreuse, her husband being exactly opposite her,
between Madame Larsillois, at whose side was the diplomatist and the old
Duchesse, whom Fumichon elbowed. Then came the painter, the dealer in
faience, and Mademoiselle Louise; and, thanks to Martinon, who had
carried her chair to enable her to take a seat near Louise, Frederick
found himself beside Madame Arnoux.

She wore a black barege gown, a gold hoop on her wrist, and, as on the
first day that he dined at her house, something red in her hair, a
branch of fuchsia twisted round her chignon. He could not help saying:

"'Tis a long time since we saw each other."

"Ah!" she returned coldly.

He went on, in a mild tone, which mitigated the impertinence of his
question:

"Have you thought of me now and then?"

"Why should I think of you?"

Frederick was hurt by these words.

"You are right, perhaps, after all."

But very soon, regretting what he had said, he swore that he had not
lived a single day without being ravaged by the remembrance of her.

"I don't believe a single word of it, Monsieur."

"However, you know that I love you!"

Madame Arnoux made no reply.

"You know that I love you!"

She still kept silent.

"Well, then,