’Husband your strength, Claude, here are the hazel-hens.  Eh!  Claude, where are you?’

Since silence had prevailed, Claude had relapsed into his dream, gazing about him vacantly, and taking a second help of raviolis without knowing what he was about; Christine, who said nothing, but sat there looking sad and charming, did not take her eyes off him.  He started when Sandoz spoke, and chose a leg from amid the bits of hazel-hen now being served, the strong fumes of which filled the room with a resinous smell.

‘Do you smell that?’ exclaimed Sandoz, amused; ’one would think one were swallowing all the forests of Russia.’

But Claude returned to the matter which worried him.

’Then you say that Fagerolles will be entrusted with the paintings for the Municipal Council’s assembly room?’

And this remark sufficed; Mahoudeau and Gagniere, set on the track, at once started off again.  Ah! a nice wishy-washy smearing it would be if that assembly room were allotted to him; and he was doing plenty of dirty things to get it.  He, who had formerly pretended to spit on orders for work, like a great artist surrounded by amateurs, was basely cringing to the officials, now that his pictures no longer sold.  Could anything more despicable be imagined than a painter soliciting a functionary, bowing and scraping, showing all kinds of cowardice and making all kinds of concessions?  It was shameful that art should be dependent upon a Minister’s idiotic good pleasure!  Fagerolles, at that official dinner he had gone to, was no doubt conscientiously licking the boots of some chief clerk, some idiot who was only fit to be made a guy of.

‘Well,’ said Jory, ’he effects his purpose, and he’s quite right. You won’t pay his debts.’

‘Debts?  Have I any debts, I who have always starved?’ answered Mahoudeau in a roughly arrogant tone.  ’Ought a fellow to build himself a palace and spend money on creatures like that Irma Becot, who’s ruining Fagerolles?’

At this Jory grew angry, while the others jested, and Irma’s name went flying over the table.  But Mathilde, who had so far remained reserved and silent by way of making a show of good breeding, became intensely indignant.  ‘Oh! gentlemen, oh! gentlemen,’ she exclaimed, ’to talk before us about that creature.  No, not that creature, I implore you!

After that Henriette and Sandoz, who were in consternation, witnessed the rout of their menu.  The truffle salad, the ice, the dessert, everything was swallowed without being at all appreciated amidst the rising anger of the quarrel; and the chambertin and sparkling moselle were imbibed as if they had merely been water.  In vain did Henriette smile, while Sandoz good-naturedly tried to calm them by making allowances for human weakness.  Not one of them retreated from his position; a single word made them spring upon each other.  There was none of the vague boredom, the