“Some dish spoiled, or some entrée from the restaurant that hasn’t come, perhaps; or rather, they are making great preparations to receive this baroness whom they expect.” “Nonsense! really? a baroness of what?” “What do you say? a baroness of what?--A baroness, that’s all I know.” “And that’s why these ladies leave us like this! Aren’t we as good as a baroness, I should like to know?” “Hush, Eléonore!” “Bah! I don’t care a snap of my finger for their baroness!” “It’s after half-past five,” said Monsieur Mangeot to his sister; “I trust they will give us some dinner soon; I am half starved!” “I fancy that you have time to tighten your waistband; they are expecting a baroness, so Monsieur Camuzard told us just now.” “Oho! confound it! I must admit that at this moment I would much rather see a stuffed turkey than a baroness. They are capable of making us wait till six o’clock. I don’t know anything more intolerable than not to give your guests their dinner at the appointed time. If you mean to dine at half-past six, don’t invite me at five; for otherwise, I would make my arrangements accordingly and take something to stay my stomach.--Ah! the door opens--it is the long-desired baroness, no doubt.” “No, it’s Madame Glumeau coming back.” The buxom Lolotte had, in fact, reappeared in the salon; she tried to catch her husband’s eye, but she was obliged to stop and welcome the guests who had arrived during her absence. She had much ado to get rid of Monsieur Chambourdin, who embraced her, and of young Kingerie, who trod on her dress. At last she succeeded in joining Edouard, whose contortions were becoming alarming, and whispered to him: “It’s all ready in your dressing-room.” Glumeau’s face beamed. “Go, my dear,” his wife added aloud, “and see if the table is laid as you wish; if the names of the guests are arranged to your satisfaction.” “Yes, yes, you are right; I will go; but we can’t sit down, you know, until Madame de Grangeville comes.” “All right, all right! but go.” Glumeau did not wait to be told again; he hurried toward the door, saying to himself: “At last I can take it!” But as he opened the door, he found himself face to face with a very fashionably dressed lady who was just about to enter. The unhappy host stopped short, saying: “It is written that I shall not take it!” XII THE BARONNE DE GRANGEVILLE The Baronne de Grangeville, the latest arrival at Monsieur Glumeau’s, was a lady who had once been exceedingly pretty, and who was still rather attractive; by artificial light she appeared no more than thirty-six years old; by daylight, about thirty-nine; we are not certain how she appeared by twilight.