CHAPTER LXXXII. THROWING OFF DISGUISES. Then evening wore on, and Mirabeau’s guests came out of the awkwardness of a sumptuous masquerade, where they had been aping the life they professed to despise, and their coarse natures revealed themselves amid flowers, jewels, laces, and silks, with ludicrous incongruity. Mirabeau enjoyed the scene with keen zest. In his heart he despised the paltry display which only made his plebeian friends unnatural and awkward; but the whole scene amused him, and, with his usual forethought, he had arranged it for his own advantage. In this adroit way he hoped to mingle such elements together as would render his projects, regarding the royal family, less open to observation. Louison understood the whole scene. One by one she began to recognize the men who figured under those splendid garments; and even in her anger she smiled as the coarse hand of Marat protruded from the ruffles of gossamer lace that fell from under his coat-sleeve, in a rude attempt to wave kisses across the table to Theroigne, who received his advances with a disdainful laugh, which Du Berry joined, more covertly. She was no stranger to the splendid objects that surrounded her, and took some pride in the ultra refinements which she had brought out of her former grandeur. Marat, whose vanity was extreme, drew back from the ridicule of these women with a growl of anger; low born and humbly bred as himself, they had easily adopted the careless self-possession which he aimed at in vain. But this man was already making his influence felt in the clubs, and no one present felt strong enough to ridicule him openly. Du Berry laughed behind her fan; and Theroigne turned her face away and made signs of disgust to Mirabeau, who leaned back in his chair and smiled upon them all. Marat witnessed all this reflected in a mirror upon the opposite wall, and he never forgot it. Louison saw his coarse face darken, and knew that she could depend on him when her hour of vengeance came. Marat, as if to assure her of this, started to his feet. “Come, citizens, we have played at this folly long enough,” he said, coarsely. “Why should we ape that which we despise, and will yet trample into the earth? I, for one, am sick of this farce. True patriots only grow strong in their own elements. Bah! these perfumes suffocate me!” With these words, the brutal man snatched off his wig and sent all its powdered curls flying across the room, thus more completely exposing all the coarseness of his features. Then he threw open the velvet coat, and attempted to draw it from his shoulders, cursing its tightness, and making vicious threats against the more slender aristocrat to whom it had belonged.