As for her who was at that moment the cynosure of every eye, she was not embarrassed for an instant by all the glances that were bent upon her; smiling at one and all most graciously, acknowledging Madame Glumeau’s curtsies, addressing a pleasant word to Mademoiselle Eolinde, she displayed as much ease of manner as if she were in her own house until the moment that her eyes met Monsieur de Merval’s. Then a surprised expression, a faint suggestion of dismay, blended with the smile that played constantly about her lips; but, like Monsieur de Merval, she speedily recovered her self-possession; her emotion was only momentary. Young Astianax reappeared in other clothes and was greeted with cheers by Chambourdin and Dufournelle, who told him that all the ladies had looked at his trousers. The little fellow lost no time in presenting his respects to the Baronne de Grangeville, to whom he delivered a complimentary address that lasted a long time, while Monsieur Mangeot persisted in whispering to his neighbors: “I say, are we never going to dine? It’s after six; I was very hungry, but you will see that my appetite will have vanished when we sit down at the table.” “Where is the famous bouquet you were going to present to your father, young hidalgo?” Chambourdin asked the son of the house. “The bouquet? Oh! don’t mention it, my dear Chambourdin! It was that infernal bouquet that caused the accident to my trousers.” “Did you undertake to pick the flowers yourself, pray? Have you been flitting about the fields, my little shepherd?” “No; it’s a long story! There’s a flower girl--who is very pretty--oh! I tell you she’s a beauty!” “Enough, enough, you scamp! I don’t wish to know any more;--but you may give me the flower girl’s address.” Madame de Grangeville continued to talk with Madame Glumeau and Mademoiselle Eolinde; but the rest of the guests assumed that morose and surly air which always invades a salon when dinner is delayed too long. Some looked at the ceiling, others walked about the room, concealing their yawns; this one consulted the clock at every instant, another stretched himself out in an easy-chair and tapped the floor impatiently. But at last the door of the salon opened, and a servant appeared and said: “Madame is served.” Instantly the scene changed; faces became amiable once more, lips smiled; there was a general movement, a murmur of satisfaction passed about the room, and stout Dufournelle ran to offer his hand to the mistress of the house, eager to escort her to the dining-room. But, while accepting his proffered hand, Madame Glumeau still hesitated; she wondered whether they ought to sit down without her husband.--At that moment he appeared; he walked proudly and quickly; he carried his nose in the air and his foot gracefully arched; he was not the same man who was squirming and making wry faces a short time before. Madame Glumeau drew a long breath and said to herself: “It seems that it did him good.”