The carriages had passed quite through the uncomfortable crowd of people who recognized and yet gave no sign of recognition.  The short critical encounter seemed to have been going on for ages.  And now the wheels whirled away the carriageloads of girls more gaily than ever.  Toward the fair open country they went, amid the buffetings of the fresh air of heaven.  Bright-colored fabrics fluttered in the wind, and the merry laughter burst forth anew as the voyagers began jesting and glancing back at the respectable folks halting with looks of annoyance at the roadside.  Turning round, Nana could see the walking party hesitating and then returning the way they had come without crossing the bridge.  Mme Hugon was leaning silently on Count Muffat’s arm, and so sad was her look that no one dared comfort her.

“I say, did you see Fauchery, dear?” Nana shouted to Lucy, who was leaning out of the carriage in front.  “What a brute he was!  He shall pay out for that.  And Paul, too, a fellow I’ve been so kind to!  Not a sign!  They’re polite, I’m sure.”

And with that she gave Steiner a terrible dressing, he having ventured to suggest that the gentlemen’s attitude had been quite as it should be.  So then they weren’t even worth a bow?  The first blackguard that came by might insult them?  Thanks!  He was the right sort, too, he was!  It couldn’t be better!  One ought always to bow to a woman.

“Who’s the tall one?” asked Lucy at random, shouting through the noise of the wheels.

“It’s the Countess Muffat,” answered Steiner.

“There now!  I suspected as much,” said Nana.  “Now, my dear fellow, it’s all very well her being a countess, for she’s no better than she should be.  Yes, yes, she’s no better that she should be.  You know, I’ve got an eye for such things, I have!  And now I know your countess as well as if I had been at the making of her!  I’ll bet you that she’s the mistress of that viper Fauchery!  I tell you, she’s his mistress!  Between women you guess that sort of thing at once!”

Steiner shrugged his shoulders.  Since the previous day his irritation had been hourly increasing.  He had received letters which necessitated his leaving the following morning, added to which he did not much appreciate coming down to the country in order to sleep on the drawing-room divan.

“And this poor baby boy!” Nana continued, melting suddenly at sight of Georges’s pale face as he still sat rigid and breathless in front of her.

“D’you think Mamma recognized me?” he stammered at last.

“Oh, most surely she did!  Why, she cried out!  But it’s my fault.  He didn’t want to come with us; I forced him to.  Now listen, Zizi, would you like me to write to your mamma?  She looks such a kind, decent sort of lady!  I’ll tell her that I never saw you before and that it was Steiner who brought you with him for the first time today.”

“No, no, don’t write,” said Georges in great anxiety.  “I’ll explain it all myself.  Besides, if they bother me about it I shan’t go home again.”