Monsieur de la Thomassinière, whose fortune increased every day, determined to celebrate his wife's birthday by a grand demonstration. The invitations had been issued a week in advance. There was every indication that the banquet would be the most sumptuous that the speculator had ever given. He expected to have at his table marquises and chevaliers who deigned to call him their friend; poets who had promised to mention him in their works; and some old acquaintances whom he expected to overcome by the magnificence of the festivity. Monsieur and Madame Destival were in the last category. Everybody was in motion in Monsieur de la Thomassinière's palatial mansion. The upholsterers had decorated the salons, prepared the chandeliers and candelabra. The servants flew hither and thither carrying orders; the scullions obeyed the behests of their commander. Three women were in attendance on madame, who had been at her toilet since three o'clock, and it was now five. But Athalie was fickle in her tastes: the thing that pleased her one day displeased her the next day; she had already cast aside two caps, in which she declared that she was hideously ugly; she lost her patience, raged, stamped, tore a superb piece of tulle, pulled a bouquet to pieces, scolded her women, and was on the verge of hysteria because they brought her a set of blue jewelry when she wanted violet. At last they succeeded in pacifying her by assuring her that her hair was arranged to perfection; she deigned to look at herself in the mirror, scowled at first, then smiled, and said at last: "It is true; I look rather well." At half-past five the guests began to arrive. Monsieur de la Thomassinière, who was a little less insolent in his own house than in other people's houses, went to meet the titled personages who had condescended to do him the honor of accepting his dinner, and deigned to bestow a smile upon those whom he had honored with an invitation. Monsieur and Madame Destival arrived in due course. Since he had had a negro, the business agent had adopted the habit of blinking, and pretended to be very short-sighted. His wife was attired with an elegance that rivalled Athalie's own; and her intelligent eyes seemed to assume an even more malicious expression as they rested on the master and mistress of the house. All the guests appeared at last, Auguste among them. It was a brilliant assemblage: women of fashion, dandies, men with decorations, filled the salon, where Athalie did the honors, apportioning her courtesies to the rank or wealth of their recipients. Monsieur de la Thomassinière stalked proudly through the rooms, saying: