Auguste Monleard joined his male guests at supper, to do the honors of his table; he began by pouring down several glasses of champagne; then, like one who is determined to divert his thoughts at any cost, he drank glass after glass of different kinds of wine, in rapid succession. This manoeuvre succeeded; in a quarter of an hour his brow had cleared, his eyes sparkled; he talked with all his guests, and challenged them to drink with him; in fact, he was almost gay, and he laughed--a laugh that was a little nervous, a little forced, perhaps, but which produced a most excellent effect toward the end of the supper. When the gentlemen finally left the table, at which they had made quite an extended sojourn, they did not fail to call for a _cotillon_, the dance which has become almost the obligatory conclusion of a ball; and Auguste Monleard proposed to lead it. The suggestion was received with delight by the dancing contingent. Adolphine, greatly surprised by the animation now exhibited by her brother-in-law, mentioned it to her sister. "Your husband seems to be in high spirits now," she said; "and I am very glad to see him so." "Why! did you think that he wasn't in good spirits before?" rejoined Fanny. "You are wrong, my dear girl! Auguste always enjoys himself--only, he doesn't look as if he did; that's his way." The cotillon came to an end, and the tired dancers began at last to think of retiring. Batonnin, having supped satisfactorily twice over, left the house with Anatole de Raincy, humming: "'La belle nuit! la belle fete!'" "I know that! it ith from a comic opera," said the tall young man. "True; but you must agree that it's apropos: _la belle fete!_" "Yeth, but I'm afraid--according to what Vauflers thaid----" "What did he say?" "That Augutht Monleard had lotht enormouth thumth on the Bourth of late, and that he mutht be in a very bad way." "Ah! the devil! that's why I found him so distraught, then. At supper, he drank a lot to forget himself, I noticed that." "After all, he may pull up again--luck may turn. Ah! I thee a cab. Monthieur, I with you good-night, or rather good-day, for here'th the light." "Your servant, monsieur." Batonnin returned to his lodgings alone and on foot, saying to himself: "Well, whether Monleard is ruined or not, I had two suppers, all the same!" Our friends and acquaintances almost always welcome our misfortunes in such wise. XXXIV AUNT DUPONCEAU