And her presence delighted all the frequenters of the _salon_, the most cross-grained ladies and the most indifferent men alike. It was a curious influence exercised by that mere child; and she owed it neither to her experience--for what did she know of life?--nor to her tact--for what aim had she in view?--but to an inexplicable charm which affected all who came near her and which, at the same time, protected her against them. Her innocence was a greater attraction than any subtlety or intellectual charm and defended her to better purpose than prudence would have done or cleverness. Old Simare was mad about her. Mme. Bottentuit told her all the secrets of her home life. Mme. Charmeron confided to her that she was broken-hearted at having nothing but daughters, but that she had not given up hope yet. Mlle. du Bocage hid her head on Gilberte’s shoulder, wept and told her all her old-maidenly disappointments and regrets. “You are the ornament of my _salon_, Gilberte,” said Mme. de la Vaudraye. She was not jealous of her. Gilberte, with her exquisite compassion, had guessed that the former lady of the Logis must still suffer from the ruin of her fortunes, must still feel how stunted and narrow was her life; and she showed her more attention than she did to any other. Out of kindness to the mother she even tried to win the son’s sympathies; but here she encountered a medley of such shyness and rudeness, so unlovable a nature and so marked a determination to repel her advances and treat her as he treated the other frequenters of the _salon_ that Gilberte was quite discomfited. “Do not be discouraged,” said the mother. “He is a little unsociable; but he is so full of good qualities.” Nevertheless, Gilberte once heard her mutter between her teeth: “What a bear that boy is!” And she heard on all sides that mother and son did not agree. The _salon_ underwent a change. There were as many commonplaces uttered as ever; but those who spoke them did so with less smug importance than before. People were less sure of themselves. The talented amateurs in singing and piano-playing sought for shades of expression and feeling. Lastly, the order of the concert became “subject to alterations” and the performers no longer wore the air of automata obeying predestined laws. There were asides in the conversation; people talked among themselves, for the pleasure of talking and in accordance with their various sympathies. One evening, Beaufrelant drew Gilberte into a corner and said: “I am mad, madame, do you hear? I am mad. I care for nothing, I am indifferent to my flowers, it is you all the time. I am free: my name, my life are yours; give me some hope....” The next day, le Hourteulx made his declaration: “Life has become a burden to me. If you do not take pity on me, madame, I shall cease to exist.... But I can hardly believe that you will reject me.... Do you dislike me?... I am a widower and well-off, you know....”