He spoke easily and fluently, as some great lord might speak under the roof of his inferiors; and as he listened to Zéphirine’s involved reply, he cast a glance over the room to consider the effect that he wished to make. The pause gave him time to discover Francis du Hautoy and the prefect; to bow gracefully to each with the proper shade of difference in his smile, and, finally, to approach Mme. du Châtelet as if he had just caught sight of her. That meeting was the real event of the evening. No one so much as thought of the marriage contract lying in the adjoining bedroom, whither Françoise and the notary led guest after guest to sign the document. Lucien made a step towards Louise de Nègrepelisse, and then spoke with that grace of manner now associated, for her, with memories of Paris. “Do I owe to you, madame, the pleasure of an invitation to dine at the Prefecture the day after to-morrow?” he said. “You owe it solely to your fame, monsieur,” Louise answered drily, somewhat taken aback by the turn of a phrase by which Lucien deliberately tried to wound her pride. “Ah! Madame la Comtesse, I cannot bring you the guest if the man is in disgrace,” said Lucien, and, without waiting for an answer, he turned and greeted the Bishop with stately grace. “Your lordship’s prophecy has been partially fulfilled,” he said, and there was a winning charm in his tones; “I will endeavor to fulfil it to the letter. I consider myself very fortunate since this evening brings me an opportunity of paying my respects to you.” Lucien drew the Bishop into a conversation that lasted for ten minutes. The women looked on Lucien as a phenomenon. His unexpected insolence had struck Mme. du Châtelet dumb; she could not find an answer. Looking round the room, she saw that every woman admired Lucien; she watched group after group repeating the phrases by which Lucien crushed her with seeming disdain, and her heart contracted with a spasm of mortification. “Suppose that he should not come to the Prefecture after this, what talk there would be!” she thought. “Where did he learn this pride? Can Mlle. des Touches have taken a fancy for him? . . . He is so handsome. They say that she hurried to see him in Paris the day after that actress died. . . . Perhaps he has come to the rescue of his brother-in-law, and happened to be behind our calèche at Mansle by accident. Lucien looked at us very strangely that morning.” A crowd of thoughts crossed Louise’s brain, and unluckily for her, she continued to ponder visibly as she watched Lucien. He was talking with the Bishop as if he were the king of the room; making no effort to find any one out, waiting till others came to him, looking round about him with varying expression, and as much at his ease as his model de Marsay. M. de Senonches appeared at no great distance, but Lucien still stood beside the prelate. At the end of ten minutes Louise could contain herself no longer. She rose and went over to the Bishop and said: