"Don't you think, monsieur, that it's absurd that one or two people should keep a whole party waiting, and that decent people should be at the mercy of a fellow who doesn't choose to be prompt? At my house, monsieur, we dine at a fixed hour; I never wait two minutes for the people I invite, and they are always prompt, I assure you, for they know we should dine without them." Auguste agreed that his neighbor was right. Madame Destival lost patience; monsieur kept running to the dining-room and back, crying: "Everything will be cold! The little pâtés won't be eatable! It's exceedingly unpleasant!" "Yes," said the man with the spectacles, "warmed-over pastry is good for nothing, hum! hum! because it's good only when it's just out of the oven, hum!" Monin seemed profoundly affected by what was said about the little pâtés, and the uneasy gentleman scratched his nose with a piteous expression. At last, about seven o'clock, there was a violent ring and Monsieur and Madame de la Thomassinière soon entered the salon. Athalie was resplendent; her costume was magnificent; her neck and arms were covered with diamonds and their dazzling reflection was in perfect harmony with the piquant expression of her features. At sight of her, the men uttered involuntary murmurs of admiration; the women said nothing, but scrutinized her costume, even to the tiniest details, and their eyes were unable to dissemble a gleam of jealousy, because everything was unexceptionable and there was nothing to criticise. Now criticism is a source of the greatest pleasure in society, where people do not spare even their friends! Fancy what they say of others! La Thomassinière, who had made twenty thousand francs that very morning on a piece of land which he had resold, and who had the Marquis de Cligneval at his table almost every day, had assumed a more supercilious air than ever. He puffed himself out until his coat and his cravat were too tight for him, dragged his feet when he walked, and swayed his body like a pendulum. As he entered the salon he cast insolent glances upon all the guests, bowed to nobody, trod upon feet and dresses without apologizing, and did not answer Monin when he quitted his post behind Bichette's chair to ask the speculator: "How's the state of your health?" "How cruel of you to keep us waiting, my dear La Thomassinière!" said Monsieur Destival, offering his hand to the parvenu, who patronizingly gave him two fingers to shake, saying: "Yes, that is true. But what can I do, when I haven't a moment to myself? We nearly missed coming. My friend the marquis wanted to take us into the country; but I thought that it would incommode you if we didn't come, so I said: 'Let's go.' But it was a close shave, on my word!"