Monsieur Destival was formerly a government employé; with his wife's dowry he had bought the office of official auctioneer, which he had afterward sold at a profit. Although he never talked of politics for fear of compromising himself, and did not himself know to what party he belonged, he had had the shrewdness to set up an office as a business agent, had obtained a numerous clientage and had succeeded in tripling his capital. To be sure, he gave receptions, balls and small punches, and madame, whose eyes were full of fire and whose manners were charming, did the honors of her salon with infinite grace. The country house, where they passed much of the time in summer, was large enough to enable them to entertain extensively, and to provide rooms for seven or eight friends. As monsieur never allowed more than one day to pass without going to Paris to look after his business, and as he sometimes passed the night there, madame--who was very timid, although she had the look of a strong-minded woman--liked to keep one of monsieur's male friends in the house. A young man with twenty thousand francs a year could not fail to be hospitably received at Monsieur Destival's; and so, although it was only three months since Auguste had made his acquaintance, he was already on the footing of an intimate friend. Monsieur constantly urged him to call, whether at Paris or in the country, and madame was very fond of singing and playing with him. But the clock struck twelve, and Monsieur Dalville did not appear. Madame was annoyed. Julie was posted on the lookout at a window on the second floor, and monsieur wandered from one room to another, exclaiming: "The devil! my friend Dalville is very late, and he promised to come early, to be here for breakfast." "Does Monsieur Auguste ever remember his promises?" asked madame snappishly. "Oh! there you go again, always finding fault with him, attacking him, making fun of him." "I, monsieur? What concern of mine are Monsieur Dalville's tastes or his failings? When did you ever see me attack him?" "I know that it's all in joke; but you are a little bit caustic, my dear Emilie, you like to hurl epigrams. It is true, I admit, that I myself should be very biting, if I didn't hold myself back; in fact, I often am unconsciously. But after all, Dalville's a charming fellow--well-born--rich--talented." "Talented? Oh! very slightly." "I thought that he was strong on the violin?" "No, monsieur, he often plays false--Well, Julie, do you see anyone coming?" "Mon Dieu! no, madame, it's no use to look. And all those cheeses that I bought of Denise! How annoying!" "For heaven's sake, mademoiselle, don't bother us with your cheeses. Go up to the cupola--you can see farther." "Very well, madame." Julie went upstairs and monsieur resumed the conversation. "You won't deny, I trust, that Dalville has a pleasant voice." "Pleasant! bah! a voice like everybody's else."