Wholly absorbed in my occupation, careful to utter clearly the names which were given to me, and to make them echo from salon to salon, I had no longer a thought for anything besides.  It is no easy business to announce in a proper manner persons who are always under the impression that their name must be known, whisper it under their breath as they pass, and then are surprised to hear you murder it with the finest accent, and are almost angry with you on account of those entrances which, missing fire and greeted with little smiles, follow upon an ill-made announcement.  At M. Jansoulet’s, what made the work still more difficult for me was the number of foreigners—­Turks, Egyptians, Persians, Tunisians.  I say nothing of the Corsicans, who were very numerous that day, because during my four years at the Territorial I have become accustomed to the pronunciation of those high-sounding, interminable names, always followed by that of the locality:  “Paganetti de Porto Vecchio, Bastelica di Bonifacio, Paianatchi de Barbicaglia.”

It was always a pleasure to me to modulate these Italian syllables, to give them all their sonority, and I saw clearly, from the bewildered airs of these worthy islanders, how charmed and surprised they were to be introduced in such a manner into the high society of the Continent.  But with the Turks, these pashas, beys, and effendis, I had much more trouble, and I must have happened often to fall on a wrong pronunciation; for M. Jansoulet, on two separate occasions, sent word to me to pay more attention to the names that were given to me, and especially to announce in a more natural manner.  This remark, uttered aloud before the whole vestibule with a certain roughness, annoyed me greatly, and prevented me—­shall I confess it?—­from pitying this rich parvenu when I learned, in the course of the evening, what cruel thorns lay concealed in his bed of roses.

From half past ten until midnight the bell was constantly ringing, carriages rolling up under the portico, guests succeeding one another, deputies, senators, councillors of state, municipal councillors, who looked much rather as though they were attending a meeting of shareholders than an evening-party of society people.  What could account for this?  I had not succeeded in finding an explanation, but a remark of the beadle Nicklauss opened my eyes.

“Do you notice, M. Passajon,” said that worthy henchman, as he stood opposite me, halberd in hand, “do you notice how few ladies we have?”

That was it, egad!  Nor were we the only two to observe the fact.  As each new arrival made his entry I could hear the Nabob, who was standing near the door, exclaim, with consternation in his thick voice like that of a Marseillais with a cold in his head: 

“What! all alone?”

The guest would murmur his excuses.  “Mn-mn-mn—­his wife a trifle indisposed.  Certainly very sorry.”  Then another would arrive, and the same question call forth the same reply.