Madame de Guiraud’s sister sang, but Helene never listened.  Her eyes were now riveted on Malignon, who feigned an intense love of music, and appeared to be enraptured with the “Turtle Doves.”  Was it possible?  Could Juliette have turned a willing ear to the amorous chatter of the young fop?  It was at Trouville, no doubt, that some dangerous game had been played.  Malignon now sat in front of Juliette, marking the time of the music by swaying to and fro with the air of one who is enraptured.  Madame Deberle’s face beamed in admiring complacency, while the doctor, good-natured and patient, silently awaited the last notes of the song in order to renew his talk with the stout, pale man.

There was a murmur of applause as the singer’s voice died away, and two or three exclaimed in tones of transport:  “Delightful! magnificent!”

Malignon, however, stretching his arms over the ladies’ head-dresses, noiselessly clapped his gloved hands, and repeated “Brava! brava!” in a voice that rose high above the others.

The enthusiasm promptly came to an end, every face relaxed and smiled, and a few of the ladies rose, while, with the feeling of general relief, the buzz of conversation began again.  The atmosphere was growing much warmer, and the waving fans wafted an odor of musk from the ladies’ dresses.  At times, amidst the universal chatter, a peal of pearly laughter would ring out, or some word spoken in a loud tone would cause many to turn round.  Thrice already had Juliette swept into the smaller drawing-room to request some gentleman who had escaped thither not to desert the ladies in so rude a fashion.  They returned at her request, but ten minutes afterwards had again vanished.

“It’s intolerable,” she muttered, with an air of vexation; “not one of them will stay here.”

In the meantime Mademoiselle Aurelie was running over the ladies’ names for Helene’s benefit, as this was only the latter’s second evening visit to the doctor’s house.  The most substantial people of Passy, some of them rolling in riches, were present.  And the old maid leaned towards Helene and whispered in her ear:  “Yes, it seems it’s all arranged.  Madame de Chermette is going to marry her daughter to that tall fair fellow with whom she has flirted for the last eighteen months.  Well, never mind, that will be one mother-in-law who’ll be fond of her son-in-law.”

She stopped short, and then burst out in a tone of intense surprise:  “Good gracious! there’s Madame Levasseur’s husband speaking to that man.  I thought Juliette had sworn never to have them here together.”

Helene’s glances slowly travelled round the room.  Even amongst such seemingly estimable and honest people as these could there be women of irregular conduct?  With her provincial austerity she was astounded at the manner in which wrongdoing was winked at in Paris.  She railed at herself for her own painful repugnance when Juliette had shaken hands with her.  Madame Deberle had now seemingly become reconciled with Malignon; she had curled up her little plump figure in an easy-chair, where she sat listening gleefully to his jests.  Monsieur Deberle happened to pass them.