After he had addressed a few chilling words to Frederick, he turned once more towards those who were chatting around him. A landowner was saying: “This is a class of men that dreams of upsetting society.”
“They are calling for the organisation of labour,” said another: “Can this be conceived?”
“What could you expect,” said a third, “when we see M. de Genoude giving his assistance to the Siècle?”
“And even Conservatives style themselves Progressives. To lead us to what? To the Republic! as if such a thing were possible in France!”
Everyone declared that the Republic was impossible in France.
“No matter!” remarked one gentleman in a loud tone. “People take too much interest in the Revolution. A heap of histories, of different kinds of works, are published concerning it!”
“Without taking into account,” said Martinon, “that there are probably subjects of far more importance which might be studied.”
A gentleman occupying a ministerial office laid the blame on the scandals associated with the stage:
“Thus, for instance, this new drama of La Reine Margot really goes beyond the proper limits. What need was there for telling us about the Valois? All this exhibits loyalty in an unfavourable light. ’Tis just like your press! There is no use in talking, the September laws are altogether too mild. For my part, I would like to have court-martials, to gag the journalists! At the slightest display of insolence, drag them before a council of war, and then make an end of the business!”
“Oh, take care, Monsieur! take care!” said a professor. “Don’t attack the precious boons we gained in 1830! Respect our liberties!” It would be better, he contended, to adopt a policy of decentralisation, and to distribute the surplus populations of the towns through the country districts.
“But they are gangrened!” exclaimed a Catholic. “Let religion be more firmly established!”
Martinon hastened to observe:
“As a matter of fact, it is a restraining force.”
All the evil lay in this modern longing to rise above one’s class and to possess luxuries.
“However,” urged a manufacturer, “luxury aids commerce. Therefore, I approve of the Duc de Nemours’ action in insisting on having short breeches at his evening parties.”
“M. Thiers came to one of them in a pair of trousers. You know his joke on the subject?”
“Yes; charming! But he turned round to the demagogues, and his speech on the question of incompatibilities was not without its influence in bringing about the attempt of the twelfth of May.”
“Oh, pooh!”
“Ay, ay!”
The circle had to make a little opening to give a passage to a manservant carrying a tray, who was trying to make his way into the cardroom.
Under the green shades of the wax-lights the tables were covered with two rows of cards and gold coins. Frederick stopped beside one corner of the table, lost the fifteen napoleons which he had in his pocket, whirled lightly about, and found himself on the threshold of the boudoir in which Madame Dambreuse happened to be at that moment.
It was filled with women sitting close to one another in little groups on seats without backs. Their long skirts, swelling round them, seemed like waves, from which their waists emerged; and their breasts were clearly outlined by the slope of their corsages. Nearly every one of them had a bouquet of violets in her hand. The dull shade of their gloves showed off the whiteness of their arms, which formed a contrast with its human flesh tints. Over the shoulders of some of them hung fringe or mourning-weeds, and, every now and then, as they quivered with emotion, it seemed as if their bodices were about to fall down.
But the decorum of their countenances tempered the exciting effect of their costumes. Several of them had a placidity almost like that of animals; and this resemblance to the brute creation on the part of half-nude women made him think of the interior of a harem—indeed, a grosser comparison suggested itself to the young man’s mind.
Every variety of beauty was to be found there—some English ladies, with the profile familiar in “keepsakes”; an Italian, whose black eyes shot forth lava-like flashes, like a Vesuvius; three sisters, dressed in blue; three Normans, fresh as April apples; a tall red-haired girl, with a set of amethysts. And the bright scintillation of diamonds, which trembled in aigrettes worn over their hair, the luminous spots of precious stones laid over their breasts, and the delightful radiance of pearls which adorned their foreheads mingled with the glitter of gold rings, as well as with the lace, powder, the feathers, the vermilion of dainty mouths, and the mother-of-pearl hue of teeth. The ceiling, rounded like a cupola, gave to the boudoir the form of a flower-basket, and a current of perfumed air circulated under the flapping of their fans.
Frederick, planting himself behind them, put up his eyeglass and scanned their shoulders, not all of which did he consider irreproachable. He thought about the Maréchale, and this dispelled the temptations that beset him or consoled him for not yielding to them.
He gazed, however, at Madame Dambreuse, and he considered her charming, in spite of her mouth being rather large and her nostrils too dilated. But she was remarkably graceful in appearance. There was, as it were, an expression of passionate languor in the ringlets of her hair, and her forehead, which was like agate, seemed to cover a great deal, and indicated a masterful intelligence.
She had placed beside her her husband’s niece, a rather plain-looking young person. From time to time she left her seat to receive those who had just come in; and the murmur of feminine voices, made, as it were, a cackling like that of birds.
They were talking about the Tunisian ambassadors and their costumes. One lady had been present at the last reception of the Academy. Another referred to the Don Juan of
