Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [201]
Close to the fire-place, however, the old friends of the count’s mother had taken refuge in their accustomed seats, feeling dazed and out of their element. They formed a little group in the midst of the gradually increasing crowd. Madame du Joncquoy, no longer recognising the place, had at first gone into the dining-room. Madame Chantereau looked with amazement at the garden, which seemed to her immense. Soon all sorts of bitter reflections were whispered in this corner.
“I say,” murmured Madame Chantereau; “supposing the old countess were only to return. Just fancy her look on beholding all these people, and all this gold, and this hubbub. It is scandalous! ”
“Sabine is mad,” replied Madame du Joncquoy. “Did you notice her at the door? Look, you can see her from here. She has all her diamonds on.”
They stood up for a moment to look at the count and countess in the distance. Sabine, in a white costume trimmed with some magnificent English lace, was triumphant with beauty—young, lively, and with a touch of intoxication in her continual smile. Muffat, beside her, looking aged and rather pale, smiled also in his calm, dignified manner.
“And to think that he was the master,” resumed Madame Chantereau, “that not the smallest seat would have been admitted here without his permission! Ah, well! she has changed all that, he obeys her now. Do you recollect the time when she would not alter a thing in the drawing-room? The whole house is altered now.”
But they ceased talking as Madame de Chezelles entered, followed by a troop of young men, all of them enraptured, and giving vent to their admiration in faint exclamations.
“Oh, delicious! exquisite! so full of taste!”
And she called back to them, “It’s just as I said! There’s nothing like these old buildings when one knows how to arrange them. They look so grand! Is it not quite worthy of Louis XIV.’s time. Now, at least, she can receive.”
The two old ladies had sat down again, and lowering their voices, they talked of the marriage, which surprised many people. Estelle had just passed, in a pink silk dress, still flat and thin, with her expressionless virgin face. She had accepted Daguenet quietly; she showed neither joy nor sadness, but remained as cold and pale as on those winter nights when she used to put the logs of wood on the fire. All this entertainment given for her, these illuminations, these flowers, this music, left her cold.
“An adventurer!” Madame du Joncquoy was saying. “I have never seen him.”
“Take care, here he comes,” murmured Madame Chantereau.
Daguenet, who had caught sight of Madame Hugon with her sons, had hastened to offer her his arm, and he laughed; he showed her an amount of affectionate attention, as though she had had something to do with his stroke of fortune.
“Thank you,” said she, seating herself by the fire-place. “This is my old corner.”
“Do you know him?” asked Madame du Joncquoy, when Daguenet had gone off.
“Certainly, he is a charming young man. George likes him immensely. Oh! he comes of a most honourable family.”
And the good lady defended him against a covert hostility which she felt existed. His father, who was greatly esteemed by Louis-Philippe, had occupied a prefect’s post until his death. The young man had perhaps been rather dissipated. It was said that he was ruined. At any rate, one of his uncles, a rich landed proprietor, was going to bequeath his fortune to him. But the other ladies shook their heads, whilst Madame Hugon, feeling rather embarrassed, kept laying great stress on the honourable position of the family. She felt very tired and complained of her legs. For a month past she had been stopping at her house in the Rue Richelieu, for a