She did not feel satisfied with the smile that accompanied the compliment.  She wished to hear the entire phrase.

“Now—?” said she, as a most seductive smile played on her lips.

“Now, I find it inferior to the original!”

“One always says so, your Excellency, except perhaps to the artist; but I was greatly afraid that you would not think me so, arrayed in this—­this famous blue—­this sky-blue that you love so much.”

“And that I love a hundred times more from this evening forward,” said he, in a changed and genuinely affected tone.

She did not reply, but looked at him full in the face as if to inform him that she understood him.  He was quite pale.

“Would you not like to be one of the bright ornaments of my salon, as you are of that of Madame Marsy?” said he, in a whisper.

“With the greatest happiness, your Excellency.”

What Sulpice said was not heard by the others; but Marianne felt that she was observed, envied already, and manifested her complete satisfaction with a toss of her head.  In this atmosphere of flattery, oppressive as with the heavy odor of incense, she experienced a sensation of omnipotence, the intoxication of that power with which Vaudrey was invested, whose envied reflection was cast on her by that simple aside spoken in the midst of the crowd.

She was delighted and exceedingly proud.  She almost forgot that her visit had been made on Rosas’s account.

Vaudrey was about to add something, when Madame Marsy in passing to greet her guests, noticed Marianne and grasping her hand: 

“I beg your pardon, your Excellency,” she said, “but I must take her away from you.  I have been asked for her.”

“By whom?” said Vaudrey.

“Monsieur de Rosas!”

Vaudrey looked at Marianne.  He observed distinctly a flash of joy illuminate her pale face and he felt a sudden and singular discontent, amounting almost to physical anguish.  And why, great heavens?

Marianne smiled a salutation; he half-bowed and watched her as she went away, with a sort of angry regret, as if he had something further to say to this woman who was almost a stranger to him, and who, guided by Sabine, now disappeared amid the crowd of black coats and bright toilets.  And then, almost immediately and suddenly, he was surrounded and besieged by his colleagues of the Chamber, men either indifferent or seeking favors, who only awaited the conclusion of the conversation with Mademoiselle Kayser, which they would certainly have precipitated, except for the fear of acting indiscreetly, in order to precipitate themselves on him.  Amid all those unknown persons who approached him, Vaudrey sought a friend as he felt himself lost and taken by assault by this rabble.

The sight of the face of a friend, older than himself, a spare man with a white beard very carefully trimmed, caused him a feeling of pleasure, and he joyfully exclaimed: