But Mathieu, as if he had not heard them, went on:  “I know Herbert Spencer’s law, and I believe it to be theoretically correct.  It is certain that civilization is a check to fruitfulness, so that one may picture a series of social evolutions conducing now to decrease and now to increase of population, the whole ending in final equilibrium, by the very effect of culture’s victory when the world shall be entirely populated and civilized.  But who can foretell what road will be followed, through what disasters and sufferings one may have to go?  More and more nations may disappear, and others may replace them; and how many thousands of years may not be needed before the final adjustment, compounded of truth, justice, and peace, is arrived at?  At the thought of this the mind trembles and hesitates, and the heart contracts with a pang.”

Deep silence fell while he thus remained disturbed, shaken in his faith in the good powers of life, and at a loss as to who was right—­he or those two men so languidly stretched out before him.

But Valentine, Seguin’s wife, came in, laughing and making an exhibition of masculine ways, which it had cost her much trouble to acquire.

“Ah! you people; you must not bear me any malice, you know.  That girl Celeste takes such a time over everything!”

At five-and-twenty Valentine was short, slight, and still girlish.  Fair, with a delicate face, laughing blue eyes, and a pert little nose, she could not claim to be pretty.  Still she was charming and droll, and very free and easy in her ways; for not only did her husband take her about with him to all sorts of objectionable places, but she had become quite familiar with the artists and writers who frequented the house.  Thus it was only in the presence of something extremely insulting that she again showed herself the last of the Vaugelades, and would all at once draw herself up and display haughty contempt and frigidity.

“Ah! it’s you, Monsieur Froment,” she said amiably, stepping towards Mathieu and shaking his hand in cavalier fashion.  “Is Madame Froment in good health?  Are the children flourishing as usual?”

Seguin was examining her dress, a gown of white silk trimmed with unbleached lace, and he suddenly gave way to one of those horribly rude fits which burst forth at times amid all his great affectation of politeness.  “What! have you kept us waiting all this time to put that rag on?  Well, you never looked a greater fright in your life!”

And she had entered the room convinced that she looked charming!  She made an effort to control herself, but her girlish face darkened and assumed an expression of haughty, vindictive revolt.  Then she slowly turned her eyes towards the friend who was present, and who was gazing at her with ecstasy, striving to accentuate the slavish submissiveness of his attitude.

“You look delicious!” he murmured; “that gown is a marvel.”

Seguin laughed and twitted Santerre on his obsequiousness towards women.  Valentine, mollified by the compliment, soon recovered her birdlike gayety, and such free and easy conversation ensued between the trio that Mathieu felt both stupefied and embarrassed.  In fact, he would have gone off at once had it not been for his desire to obtain from his landlord a promise to repair the pavilion properly.