The Kill - Emile Zola [23]
Meanwhile, Saccard came in and sat down a short distance away from the two young men, so Mussy remained silent, and Maxime ended by saying, “If I were in your shoes, I’d treat her in a most cavalier manner. She likes that.”
The smoking room, located at one end of the drawing room, occupied the round space formed by one of the turrets. Its style was very rich and very sober. Hung with imitation cordovan leather, it had drapes and door curtains of Algerian inspiration, while the rug was a pile carpet with a Persian pattern. The furniture, with its tawny-colored shagreen upholstery, consisted of ottomans, armchairs, and a circular sofa that occupied a portion of the wall’s circumference. The small chandelier, the decorative items displayed on a pedestal table, and the fire irons were of light green Florentine bronze.
Only a few young people and pasty-faced old men who loathed tobacco remained with the ladies. In the smoking room the men laughed and joked quite freely. M. Hupel de la Noue greatly amused the company by repeating the same story he had told at dinner but with all the truly vulgar details restored. This was his specialty: he always had two versions of every anecdote, one for the ladies, the other for the men. When Aristide Saccard came in, he was immediately surrounded and heaped with compliments, and when he pretended not to understand, M. de Saffré explained, in words that garnered considerable applause, that he, Saccard, had done his country a great service by preventing the beautiful Laure d’Aurigny from going over to the English.
“No, really, gentlemen, you’re mistaken,” Saccard stammered with false modesty.
“No, father, don’t deny it!” Maxime exclaimed in a bantering tone of voice. “At your age, it’s quite an accomplishment.”
The young man disposed of his cigar and returned to the drawing room. Lots of people had gathered. The gallery was full of dark frock coats, standing and talking in low voices, and of skirts, spread out across love seats. Servants had begun to circulate with silver trays laden with ice cream and glasses of punch.
Maxime, wanting to speak to Renée, traversed the length of the drawing room, knowing full well where he would find the ladies gathered. At the opposite end of the gallery from the smoking room was another round room that had been turned into an adorable little salon. With its hangings, drapes, and door curtains of buttercup satin, this room had a voluptuous charm, a delicate, original flavor. The light from the chandelier—a piece of exquisite craftsmanship—played a symphony in yellow minor on the sun-colored silks. The effect was like a fountain of subdued sunlight, a sunset on a field of ripe wheat. Ultimately the light settled onto an Aubusson carpet strewn with autumn leaves. For furniture the room had only an ebony piano with ivory inlay, two small cabinets with glass doors displaying a collection of curios, a Louis XVI table, and a jardinière console holding an enormous bouquet of flowers. The love seats, armchairs, and poufs were upholstered with buttercup satin striped with bands of the same material in black and conspicuously embroidered with tulips. And then there were footstools and ottomans, a whole host of elegant and bizarre varieties of the tabouret. 17 The wood in these pieces could not be seen: satin and stuffing covered everything. The backs had the curvaceous fullness of bolsters, so that these sofas and armchairs were like discreet beds where a person could sleep and make love on a cushion of down while the sensual symphony in yellow minor played on in the background.
Renée loved this little salon, one of whose French doors opened onto the magnificent conservatory attached to the side of the mansion. During the day this was where she spent her idle hours. The yellow hangings did not outshine her pale blonde hair but rather lent it a strange golden glow. Her head stood out against an auroral gleam