“Poor fellow,” said Vauvinet, “he was a great man!  Magnificent!  And what a figure, what a style, the air of Francis I.!  What a volcano! and how full of ingenious ways of getting money!  He must be looking for it now, wherever he is, and I make no doubt he extracts it even from the walls built of bones that you may see in the suburbs of Paris near the city gates—­”

“And all that,” said Bixiou, “for that little Madame Marneffe!  There is a precious hussy for you!”

“She is just going to marry my friend Crevel,” said du Tillet.

“And she is madly in love with my friend Steinbock,” Leon de Lora put in.

These three phrases were like so many pistol-shots fired point-blank at Montes.  He turned white, and the shock was so painful that he rose with difficulty.

“You are a set of blackguards!” cried he.  “You have no right to speak the name of an honest woman in the same breath with those fallen creatures—­above all, not to make it a mark for your slander!”

He was interrupted by unanimous bravos and applause.  Bixiou, Leon de Lora, Vauvinet, du Tillet, and Massol set the example, and there was a chorus.

“Hurrah for the Emperor!” said Bixiou.

“Crown him! crown him!” cried Vauvinet.

“Three groans for such a good dog!  Hurrah for Brazil!” cried Lousteau.

“So, my copper-colored Baron, it is our Valerie that you love; and you are not disgusted?” said Leon de Lora.

“His remark is not parliamentary, but it is grand!” observed Massol.

“But, my most delightful customer,” said du Tillet, “you were recommended to me; I am your banker; your innocence reflects on my credit.”

“Yes, tell me, you are a reasonable creature——­” said the Brazilian to the banker.

“Thanks on behalf of the company,” said Bixiou with a bow.

“Tell me the real facts,” Montes went on, heedless of Bixiou’s interjection.

“Well, then,” replied du Tillet, “I have the honor to tell you that I am asked to the Crevel wedding.”

“Ah, ha!  Combabus holds a brief for Madame Marneffe!” said Josepha, rising solemnly.

She went round to Montes with a tragic look, patted him kindly on the head, looked at him for a moment with comical admiration, and nodded sagely.

“Hulot was the first instance of love through fire and water,” said she; “this is the second.  But it ought not to count, as it comes from the Tropics.”

Montes had dropped into his chair again, when Josepha gently touched his forehead, and looked at du Tillet as he said: 

“If I am the victim of a Paris jest, if you only wanted to get at my secret——­” and he sent a flashing look round the table, embracing all the guests in a flaming glance that blazed with the sun of Brazil,—­“I beg of you as a favor to tell me so,” he went on, in a tone of almost childlike entreaty; “but do not vilify the woman I love.”