Madame Gerson was not on friendly terms with Sabine Marsy.  People were ignorant as to the cause.  Adrienne, who was not familiar with the history of such little broils, was very much surprised to learn of this fact.

“She claims that we take away all her personnel,” said Madame Gerson.  “It is not my fault if people enjoy themselves at our house.  I hope that you will find pleasure here, Monsieur le President.”

Vaudrey bowed.  “Madame Gerson could not doubt it.”

The guests sat down to dinner.  Madame Gerson beamed with joy beside the minister.  Guy de Lissac, Warcolier, some senators and some deputies were of the dinner party.  Monsieur and Madame Gerson never spoke of them by their names but:  Monsieur le Senateur, Monsieur le Depute! They lubricated their throats with these titles, just as bourgeois who come in contact with highnesses swell out in addressing a prince as Monseigneur, absolutely as if they were addressing themselves.

Sulpice felt in the midst of this circle in which everything was sacrificed to chic, as he invariably did, the painful sensation of a man who is continually on show.  He never dined out without running against the same menu, the same fanfare, and the same conversation.

Monsieur Gerson endeavored to draw the President of the Council into political conversation.  He wished to know Vaudrey’s opinion as to the one-man ballet.  Sulpice smiled.

“Thanks!” he said.  “We have just been dealing with that.  I prefer truffles, they are more savory.”

Through the flowers, Adrienne could see her husband who was seated opposite to her beside Madame Gerson.  She conversed but little with Guy de Lissac, who was sitting on her right, although the formalities of the occasion would have suggested that Monsieur le Senator Crepeau and Monsieur de Prangins, the deputy, should have been so placed.  Madame Gerson, however, had remarked with a smile, that Madame Vaudrey would not feel annoyed at having Monsieur de Lissac for her neighbor.  “I have often met Monsieur de Lissac at the ministry; he is received noticeably well there.”

Not knowing any one among the guests, Adrienne was, in fact, charmed to have Guy next to her.  He was decidedly pleasing to her with his sallies, his skepticism which, as she thought, covered more belief than he wished to disclose.  For a long time, he had felt himself entirely captivated by her cheerful modesty and the grace of her exquisite purity.  She was so vastly different from all the other women whom he had known.  How the devil could Vaudrey bring himself to neglect so perfect a creature, who was more attractive in her fascinating virtue than all the damsels to be met with in society, among the demi-monde, or those of a still lower grade?  For Vaudrey remained indifferent to Adrienne; and this was a further and manifest blow.  A specialist in matters of observation like Guy was not to be deceived therein.  Madame Vaudrey had not yet complained, but she was already suffering.  Was it merely politics, or was it some woman who was taking her husband from Adrienne?  Guy did not know, but he would know.  The pretty Madame Vaudrey interested him.