Friquet, who had returned in high dudgeon because he had been obliged to escort a lady home, stole behind the dancers and looked at the clock; then he hastened to inform his uncle that the hands had been set back, so that they marked only twelve o'clock when it was nearly one. Vauvert consulted his watch, saw that his nephew was right, and concluded that it was incumbent on him to show some resolution, and that his dignity required him to turn his guests out of doors at once. He immediately extinguished the lamps in the four corners of the salon, leaving only a few candles lighted; and the young men were about to extinguish them as well, and thus make the scene more amusing, when Vauvert took possession of them and harangued the company thus: "I have already told you that it is time to go; my wife is indisposed, and I am surprised that anyone should continue to dance against our wishes." This courteous speech made everybody laugh, and they hurried into the dressing room to prepare for departure. But there the confusion and disorder reached their climax. The ladies called for their shawls, mantles, bonnets, and slippers; the singers demanded their music or their instruments; they made mistakes, and many could not find what they wanted; the young men hovered about the ladies, on the pretext of assisting them, but really because such crushes are most propitious to lovers and amateurs. One tied a ribbon, another put on an overshoe, another held a little foot while the slipper was being removed. Amid the tumult, mothers called their daughters, husbands their wives, brothers their sisters. But those ladies were far too busy to answer. They were whispering, squeezing hands, making appointments, arranging other meetings; in truth, the moment of departure is not that at which the guests enjoy themselves least. I tried to save Madame de Marsan the trouble of looking for her shawl in that crowd; I went into the bedroom, and succeeded, not without difficulty, in reaching the bed, on which the bonnets and wraps were piled; my hand, seeking a shawl, came in contact with a firm and well-rounded form, which I was not seeking, but which I embraced as a matter of habit, and because I thought that it belonged to a lady with whom I was very intimate. But the lady, who was stooping over the bed, and whose back only could I see, turned suddenly. Horror! it was not she whom I thought! I proceeded to entangle myself in apologies, but she gave me a most tender and amiable smile, which seemed to invite me to continue. Faith! I admit that I should not have expected it on the part of the lady in question, who, in the salon, played the prude, the straitlaced, stern moralist. Trust appearances, who will! I have already said that I never would; but a great many people say that, and still allow themselves to be deceived.