Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [46]
“Yes, it is a terrible thing,” murmured the countess, with a slight shiver, as she cuddled closer into her chair before the fire.
Then the ladies entered into a long discussion on the subject. But their voices were subdued, and only occasionally did a faint laugh interrupt the solemnity of the conversation. The two lamps on the mantlepiece, covered with rose-coloured shades, shed but a feeble light over them; and there being only three other lamps, which were placed at a distance on different pieces of furniture, the vast room was in a pleasant shadow. Steiner began to feel bored. He related to Fauchery an adventure of that little Madame de Chezelles, whom he familiarly called Léonide. A regular hussy, said he, as he lowered his voice behind the ladies’ chairs. Fauchery watched her in her dress of pale blue satin, as she sat on a corner of her chair, looking as slim and as impudent as a boy, and he ended by feeling surprised at seeing her there. They knew better how to behave themselves at Caroline Héquet’s, whose establishment had just been placed on a substantial footing by her mother. It was quite a subject for an article. What an extraordinary world was the Parisian one! The strictest drawing-rooms were becoming invaded. That silent Théophile Venot, who contented himself with smiling and showing his bad teeth, was evidently a bequest of the defunct countess, just the same as the elderly ladies, Madame Chantereau, Madame du Joncquoy, and four or five old gentlemen who remained immovable in their corners. Count Muffat brought some government officials, who affected that correctness of bearing which was the fashion of the Tuileries.ab Amongst others, the head of the department remained seated by himself in the middle of the room, with his clean shaven face and dull-looking eyes, and so tightly buttoned up in his coat that he seemed as though he dare not move. Nearly all the young men, and some persons of lofty style, had been introduced by the Marquis de Chouard, who had kept up his connection with the legitimists, after having joined the Empire and become a member of the Council of State. There remained Léonide de Chezelles, Steiner, a most ambiguous lot, which was relieved by Madame Hugon with the serenity of an amiable old woman; and Fauchery, who still had his article in his mind, called them Countess Sabine’s set.
“On another occasion,” continued Steiner, speaking very low, “Léonide made her tenor come to Montauban. She was living at the Château de Beaurecueil, two leagues from there, and every day she came in a carriage and pair to see him at the Hotel du Lion-d’Or, where he was staying. The carriage waited at the door, and Léonide remained in the hotel for hours, whilst a crowd assembled and admired the horses.”
The conversation ceased, and a rather solemn interval succeeded. Two young men were whispering, but they soon left off, and nothing was heard but Count Muffat’s faint footsteps as he walked across the room. The lamps seemed to be burning low, the fire was going out, and a deep shadow almost hid from sight the old friends of the family, as they sat in the chairs they had occupied there for forty years past. It was as though, between a couple of sentences, the guests had felt the count’s mother return with her grand, icy cold look. Countess Sabine, however, soon resumed:
“At any rate there was a report to that effect. The young man, it seems, died, and that will explain why the poor child took the veil. It is said, also, that M. de Fougeray would never have given his consent to the marriage.”
“There are a great many other things said, too,” giddily exclaimed Léonide.
She laughed, at the same time refusing to explain herself. Sabine, affected by this gaiety, carried her handkerchief to her mouth. And this laughter, in the solemnity of the vast apartment, had a ring which struck Fauchery; it sounded like the breaking of glass. Without a doubt something was cracked there. Then the ladies all started off talking at once. Madame du Joncquoy