“There, there, my daughter,” he said, “that’s as it should be.  Women are made for that!”

There was a slight reawakening, and conversation became general as they finished discussing some orange sherbet.  The hot roast was a fillet with truffles, and the cold roast a galantine of guinea fowl in jelly.  Nana, annoyed by the want of go displayed by her guests, had begun talking with the greatest distinctness.

“You know the Prince of Scots has already had a stage box reserved so as to see the Blonde Venus when he comes to visit the exhibition.”

“I very much hope that all the princes will come and see it,” declared Bordenave with his mouth full.

“They are expecting the shah of Persia next Sunday,” said Lucy Stewart.  Whereupon Rose Mignon spoke of the shah’s diamonds.  He wore a tunic entirely covered with gems; it was a marvel, a flaming star; it represented millions.  And the ladies, with pale faces and eyes glittering with covetousness, craned forward and ran over the names of the other kings, the other emperors, who were shortly expected.  All of them were dreaming of some royal caprice, some night to be paid for by a fortune.

“Now tell me, dear boy,” Caroline Hequet asked Vandeuvres, leaning forward as she did so, “how old’s the emperor of Russia?”

“Oh, he’s ‘present time,’” replied the count, laughing.  “Nothing to be done in that quarter, I warn you.”

Nana made pretense of being hurt.  The witticism appeared somewhat too stinging, and there was a murmur of protest.  But Blanche gave a description of the king of Italy, whom she had once seen at Milan.  He was scarcely good looking, and yet that did not prevent him enjoying all the women.  She was put out somewhat when Fauchery assured her that Victor Emmanuel could not come to the exhibition.  Louise Violaine and Lea favored the emperor of Austria, and all of a sudden little Maria Blond was heard saying: 

“What an old stick the king of Prussia is!  I was at Baden last year, and one was always meeting him about with Count Bismarck.”

“Dear me, Bismarck!” Simonne interrupted.  “I knew him once, I did.  A charming man.”

“That’s what I was saying yesterday,” cried Vandeuvres, “but nobody would believe me.”

And just as at Countess Sabine’s, there ensued a long discussion about Bismarck.  Vandeuvres repeated the same phrases, and for a moment or two one was again in the Muffats’ drawing room, the only difference being that the ladies were changed.  Then, just as last night, they passed on to a discussion on music, after which, Foucarmont having let slip some mention of the assumption of the veil of which Paris was still talking, Nana grew quite interested and insisted on details about Mlle de Fougeray.  Oh, the poor child, fancy her burying herself alive like that!  Ah well, when it was a question of vocation!  All round the table the women expressed themselves much touched, and Georges, wearied at hearing these