“Nothing that is appropriate,” replied Montfanon.  “Yes, they are two magnificent portraits of ancestors, and this man has no ancestors!....  There are some weapons in that cupboard, and he has never touched a sword!  And there is a piece of tapestry representing the miracles of the loaves, which is a piece of audacity!  You may not believe me, Dorsenne, but it is making me ill to be here....  I am reminded of the human toil, of the human soul in all these objects, and to end here, paid for how?  Owned by whom?  Close your eyes and think of Schroeder and of the others whom you do not know.  Look into the hovels where there is neither furniture, fire, nor bread.  Then, open your eyes and look at this.”

“And you, my dear friend,” replied the novelist, “I conjure you to think of our conversation in the catacombs, to think of the three ladies in whose names I besought you to aid Florent.”

“Thank you,” said Montfanon, passing his hand over his brow, “I promise you to be calm.”

He had scarcely uttered those words when the door opened, disclosing to view another room, lighted also, and which, to judge by the sound of voices, contained several persons.  No doubt Madame Steno and Alba, thought Julien; and the Baron entered, accompanied by Peppino Ardea.  While going through the introductions, the writer was struck by the contrast offered between his three companions.  Hafner and Ardea in evening dress, with buttonhole bouquets, had the open and happy faces of two citizens who had clear consciences.  The usually sallow complexion of the business man was tinged with excitement, his eyes, as a rule so hard, were gentler.  As for the Prince, the same childish carelessness lighted up his jovial face, while the hero of Patay, with his coarse boots, his immense form enveloped in a somewhat shabby redingote, exhibited a face so contracted that one would have thought him devoured by remorse.  A dishonest intendant, forced to expose his accounts to generous and confiding masters, could not have had a face more gloomy or more anxious.  He had, moreover, put his one arm behind his back in a manner so formal that neither of the two men who entered offered him their hands.  That appearance was without doubt little in keeping with what the father and the fiance of Fanny had expected; for there was, when the four men were seated, a pause which the Baron was the first to break.  He began in his measured tones, in a voice which handles words as the weight of a usurer weighs gold pieces to the milligramme: 

“Gentlemen, I believe I shall express our common sentiment in first of all establishing a point which shall govern our meeting....  We are here, it is understood, to bring about the work of reconciliation between two men, two gentlemen whom we know, whom we esteem—­I might better say, whom we all love."....  He turned, in pronouncing those words, successively to each of his three listeners, who all bowed, with the exception of the Marquis.  Hafner