"You confuse me, Monsieur de Chambertin. Really, I shall not be able to leave this part of the country; and yet we are expected at the court of Bulgaria--as you know, Monsieur Ménard." At these words, Madame Bidault drew herself up and pressed her lips together; Chambertin glanced at his neighbors with an expression that said: "What did I tell you?" while Monsieur Fondant disappeared altogether behind the hangings. "In truth," continued Dubourg, "I am much pleased with this neighborhood, and the delightful people I meet here make it even more attractive." At that compliment, everybody rose and bowed; a similar manoeuvre was executed behind the curtains. "But I thought that I saw Monsieur Fondant," said the ironmaster; "what in the deuce has become of him?" "I am here, monsieur," said the ex-apothecary, in a hoarse voice, showing his face from behind the curtains. "What are you doing there, a mile away from us all? Come out here, Monsieur Fondant. What's the news from Lyon? what do you hear there?" Monsieur Fondant blushed to the ears, for he saw that the strangers were looking at him. He drew his handkerchief, blew his nose, moved his chair forward and back, and stammered at last, speaking through his nose to give himself confidence: "How hot it is to-day!" Luckily, Madame Chambertin returned, and her presence gave a different turn to the conversation. She had put on a thin muslin waist, trimmed with lace; she wore no hair other than her own, which was not very becoming, but she had donned her diamond ear-rings and a superb pearl necklace, which made her very seductive in the eyes of Dubourg, who went to meet her, and, as he offered her his hand, tenderly squeezed the ends of her fingers; to which she replied by a half-smile accompanied by a stifled sigh. Monsieur Bidault had joined Ménard, whom he judged to be the man of letters, and repeated divers sentences from the _Perfect Notary_, accompanied by verses from the _Almanach des Muses_. Ménard, who, in his endeavor to copy Dubourg, sometimes assumed his self-sufficient tone, smiled patronizingly at Monsieur Bidault as he replied emphatically: "_Studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant_;" and Monsieur Bidault, who had forgotten Cicero when he was learning the Codes, replied by offering him a pinch of snuff. Lunel, who had donned a short English jacket, in which he resembled a Limousin, announced that dinner was served. Everybody rose; Dubourg offered his hand to Madame Chambertin, Frossard to Madame Bidault, and the others followed, Monsieur Fondant bringing up the rear.