Madame Giraud, who had been obliged to leave the large table when the other ladies rose, walked behind her husband and children at that moment, with an enormous reticule hanging on her arm. While pretending to pass the gentlemen what they wanted, I saw that she kept opening the bag and thrusting cakes, biscuit, and even pie crust into it. Giraud, seeing that I had noticed his wife’s manœuvring, said to her angrily, as she was trying to force some macaroons into her bag: “What on earth are you doing, Madame Giraud? What sort of manners are these? You are putting macaroons into your bag!” “Just for Azor, my dear, the poor beast. He is so fond of macaroons, you know. They would be wasted, so what harm does it do? I want poor Azor to have a little of the pleasure of this party.” “You know very well that I don’t like such things, Madame Giraud.” I appeased Giraud, who pretended to be very angry; then I walked away, in order to leave his wife at full liberty; and she ended by making a perfect balloon of her bag. Meanwhile, the tables were gradually deserted; many people returned to the ballroom, but many others entered their carriages, and I considered that the latter acted wisely. The ball was more agreeable perhaps, because it was more comfortable to dance. Eugénie continued to be invited, and I must needs content myself with dancing opposite her; but there were figures in which we took each other’s hands, and then how many things we said by a soft pressure! it seems that the heart, that the very soul, passes into the beloved hand which presses ours lovingly. The ranks became thinner. My mother had gone, and Madame Dumeillan was only awaiting our departure to follow her example. It was five o’clock. The daylight was beginning to show through the windows, and to lessen the brilliancy of the candles. The number of ladies diminished every moment. I went to Eugénie’s side. “I am tired of dancing,” she said, “and yet I am afraid to refuse.” “Why, it seems to me that we might venture to go now.” She lowered her eyes and made no answer. I concluded that I had done enough for others and that I might think of myself at last. I took my wife’s hand and led her from the room; Madame Dumeillan followed us; we entered a carriage and drove away. We had to take Madame Dumeillan home first. It was a short distance, but it seemed very long to me. The nearer one’s happiness approaches, the more intense one’s impatience becomes. We spoke but little in the mother’s presence. At last we reached her house, and I alighted. Madame Dumeillan embraced her daughter; it seemed to me that their embrace was interminable. Selfish creatures that we are! it did not occur to me that that was the last embrace in which a mother would hold her daughter, still a virgin, in her arms, and that I should have all the rest of my life to enjoy my privileges as a husband.