d with the aroma of the chocolate which filled a number of
bowls placed on the card-table.

Mademoiselle Vatnaz, with an Oriental shawl thrown over her shoulders,
sat at one side of the chimney-piece. Dussardier sat facing her at the
other side. He seemed to feel himself in an embarrassing position.
Besides, he was rather intimidated by his artistic surroundings. Had the
Vatnaz, then, broken off with Delmar? Perhaps not. However, she seemed
jealous of the worthy shopman; and Frederick, having asked to let him
exchange a word with her, she made a sign to him to go with them into
her own apartment. When the thousand francs were paid down before her,
she asked, in addition, for interest.

"'Tisn't worth while," said Dussardier.

"Pray hold your tongue!"

This want of moral courage on the part of so brave a man was agreeable
to Frederick as a justification of his own conduct. He took away the
bill with him, and never again referred to the scandal at Madame
Arnoux's house. But from that time forth he saw clearly all the defects
in the Marechale's character.

She possessed incurable bad taste, incomprehensible laziness, the
ignorance of a savage, so much so that she regarded Doctor Derogis as a
person of great celebrity, and she felt proud of entertaining himself
and his wife, because they were "married people." She lectured with a
pedantic air on the affairs of daily life to Mademoiselle Irma, a poor
little creature endowed with a little voice, who had as a protector a
gentleman "very well off," an ex-clerk in the Custom-house, who had a
rare talent for card tricks. Rosanette used to call him "My big Loulou."
Frederick could no longer endure the repetition of her stupid words,
such as "Some custard," "To Chaillot," "One could never know," etc.; and
she persisted in wiping off the dust in the morning from her trinkets
with a pair of old white gloves. He was above all disgusted by her
treatment of her servant, whose wages were constantly in arrear, and who
even lent her money. On the days when they settled their accounts, they
used to wrangle like two fish-women; and then, on becoming reconciled,
used to embrace each other. It was a relief to him when Madame
Dambreuse's evening parties began again.

There, at any rate, he found something to amuse him. She was well versed
in the intrigues of society, the changes of ambassadors, the personal
character of dressmakers; and, if commonplaces escaped her lips, they
did so in s