The servant was now bringing the boiled eggs and they took their seats at table, while Morange victoriously explained that the place altogether cost him sixteen hundred francs a year.  It was cheap indeed, though the amount was a heavy charge on Morange’s slender income.  Mathieu now began to understand that he had been invited more particularly to admire the new flat, and these worthy people seemed so delighted to triumph over it before him that he took the matter gayly and without thought of spite.  There was no calculating ambition in his nature; he envied nothing of the luxury he brushed against in other people’s homes, and he was quite satisfied with the snug modest life he led with Marianne and his children.  Thus he simply felt surprised at finding the Moranges so desirous of cutting a figure and making money, and looked at them with a somewhat sad smile.

Valerie was wearing a pretty gown of foulard with a pattern of little yellow flowers, while her daughter, Reine, whom she liked to deck out coquettishly, had a frock of blue linen stuff.  There was rather too much luxury about the meal also.  Soles followed the eggs, and then came cutlets, and afterwards asparagus.

The conversation began with some mention of Janville.

“And so your children are in good health?  Oh! they are very fine children indeed.  And you really like the country?  How funny!  I think I should feel dreadfully bored there, for there is too great a lack of amusements.  Why, yes, we shall be delighted to go to see you there, since Madame Froment is kind enough to invite us.”

Then, as was bound to happen, the talk turned on the Beauchenes.  This was a subject which haunted the Moranges, who lived in perpetual admiration of the Beauchenes, though at times they covertly criticised them.  Valerie was very proud of being privileged to attend Constance’s Saturday “at-homes,” and of having been twice invited to dinner by her during the previous winter.  She on her side now had a day of her own, Tuesday, and she even gave little private parties, and half ruined herself in providing refreshments at them.  As for her acquaintances, she spoke with profound respect of Mme. Seguin du Hordel and that lady’s magnificent mansion in the Avenue d’Antin, for Constance had obligingly obtained her an invitation to a ball there.  But she was particularly vain of the friendship of Beauchene’s sister, Seraphine, whom she invariably called “Madame la Baronne de Lowicz.”

“The Baroness came to my at-home one afternoon,” she said.  “She is so very good-natured and so gay!  You knew her formerly, did you not?  After her marriage, eh? when she became reconciled to her brother and their wretched disputes about money matters were over.  By the way, she has no great liking for Madame Beauchene, as you must know.”