"It is not very amusing," said the Princess; "but that is not your fault. Your anarchists are as timid and moderate as other Frenchmen. The Russians have more audacity and more imagination." Countess Martin asked Paul Vence whether he knew a silent, timid-looking man among the guests. Her husband had invited him. She knew nothing of him, not even his name. Paul Vence could only say that he was a senator. He had seen him one day by chance in the Luxembourg, in the gallery that served as a library. "I went there to look at the cupola, where Delacroix has painted, in a wood of bluish myrtles, heroes and sages of antiquity. That gentleman was there, with the same wretched and pitiful air. His coat was damp and he was warming himself. He was talking with old colleagues and saying, while rubbing his hands: 'The proof that the Republic is the best of governments is that in 1871 it could kill in a week sixty thousand insurgents without becoming unpopular. After such a repression any other regime would have been impossible.'" "He is a very wicked man," said Madame Martin. "And to think that I was pitying him!" Madame Garain, her chin softly dropped on her chest, slept in the peace of her housewifely mind, and dreamed of her vegetable garden on the banks of the Loire, where singing-societies came to serenade her. Joseph Schmoll and General Lariviere came out of the smoking-room. The General took a seat between Princess Seniavine and Madame Martin. "I met this morning, in the park, Baronne Warburg, mounted on a magnificent horse. She said, 'General, how do you manage to have such fine horses?' I replied: Madame, to have fine horses, you must be either very wealthy or very clever.'" He was so well satisfied with his reply that he repeated it twice. Paul Vence came near Countess Martin: "I know that senator's name: it is Lyer. He is the vice-president of a political society, and author of a book entitled, The Crime of December Second." The General continued: "The weather was horrible. I went into a hut and found Le Menil there. I was in a bad humor. He was making fun of me, I saw, because I sought shelter. He imagines that because I am a general I must like wind and snow. He said that he liked bad weather, and that he was to go foxhunting with friends next week." There was a pause; the General continued: "I wish him much joy, but I don't envy him. Foxhunting is not agreeable." "But it is useful," said Montessuy. The General shrugged his shoulders. "Foxes are dangerous for chicken-coops in the spring when the fowls have to feed their families." "Foxes are sly poachers, who do less harm to farmers than to hunters. I know something of this." Therese was not listening to the Princess, who was talking to her. She was thinking: "He did not tell me that he was going away!" "Of what are you thinking, dear?" inquired the Princess. "Of nothing interesting," Therese replied. CHAPTER IV THE END OF A DREAM