“In fact,” resumed Mme du Joncquoy, “you ought to have prevented this union with an adventurer.”

The little old gentleman assumed an expression of profound astonishment.  “You deceive yourself.  Monsieur Daguenet is a young man of the greatest merit.  I am acquainted with his thoughts; he is anxious to live down the errors of his youth.  Estelle will bring him back to the path of virtue, be sure of that.”

“Oh, Estelle!” Mme Chantereau murmured disdainfully.  “I believe the dear young thing to be incapable of willing anything; she is so insignificant!”

This opinion caused M. Venot to smile.  However, he went into no explanations about the young bride and, shutting his eyes, as though to avoid seeming to take any further interest in the matter, he once more lost himself in his corner behind the petticoats.  Mme Hugon, though weary and absent-minded, had caught some phrases of the conversation, and she now intervened and summed up in her tolerant way by remarking to the Marquis de Chouard, who just then bowed to her: 

“These ladies are too severe.  Existence is so bitter for every one of us!  Ought we not to forgive others much, my friend, if we wish to merit forgiveness ourselves?”

For some seconds the marquis appeared embarrassed, for he was afraid of allusions.  But the good lady wore so sad a smile that he recovered almost at once and remarked: 

“No, there is no forgiveness for certain faults.  It is by reason of this kind of accommodating spirit that a society sinks into the abyss of ruin.”

The ball had grown still more animated.  A fresh quadrille was imparting a slight swaying motion to the drawing-room floor, as though the old dwelling had been shaken by the impulse of the dance.  Now and again amid the wan confusion of heads a woman’s face with shining eyes and parted lips stood sharply out as it was whirled away by the dance, the light of the lusters gleaming on the white skin.  Mme du Joncquoy declared that the present proceedings were senseless.  It was madness to crowd five hundred people into a room which would scarcely contain two hundred.  In fact, why not sign the wedding contract on the Place du Carrousel?  This was the outcome of the new code of manners, said Mme Chantereau.  In old times these solemnities took place in the bosom of the family, but today one must have a mob of people; the whole street must be allowed to enter quite freely, and there must be a great crush, or else the evening seems a chilly affair.  People now advertised their luxury and introduced the mere foam on the wave of Parisian society into their houses, and accordingly it was only too natural if illicit proceedings such as they had been discussing afterward polluted the hearth.  The ladies complained that they could not recognize more than fifty people.  Where did all this crowd spring from?  Young girls with low necks were making a great display of their shoulders.  A woman had a golden dagger stuck in her chignon,