"I have a much prettier one underneath!" cavalierly rejoined the young woman, who laughed in his face, so funny did she find him, buried in this manner, among the draperies. The audacity of this witticism momentarily astonished the gallant Monsieur Hupel de la Noue; but he recovered himself, and enjoying the repartee more and more as he gradually fathomed its depths: "Ah! charming! charming!" he murmured with a delighted air. He let the corner of the curtain fall, and went to join the group of grave looking men, wishing to enjoy his work. He was no longer the scared man running after the nymph Echo's girdle of foliage. He was radiant and panting, wiping his forehead. He still had the little white hand marked on the sleeve of his coat; and in addition the glove of his right hand was stained with red at the tip of the thumb; he had no doubt dipped his thumb into one of the ladies' pots of colour. He smiled, fanned himself with his handkerchief and stammered: "She is adorable, lavishing, stupefying--" "Who?" asked Saccard. "The marchioness. Fancy, she just said to me--" And he repeated the witticism. It was considered extremely smart. The gentlemen repeated it to one another. Even worthy Monsieur Haffner, who had approached, could not prevent himself from applauding. However, a piano which few people had seen, began to play a waltz. There was then deep silence. The waltz had a capricious, interminable roll; and a very soft phrase ever ascended the keyboard, finishing in a nightingale's trill; then deeper notes resounded more slowly. It was very voluptuous. The ladies smiled with their heads slightly inclined. The piano had, however, suddenly put a stop to Monsieur Hupel de la Noue's gaiety. He looked at the red velvet curtains with an anxious air, he said to himself that he ought to have placed Madame d'Espanet in position as he had placed the others. The curtains slowly opened, the piano again began the sensual waltz in a minor key. A murmur sped through the drawing-room, the ladies leaned forward, the gentlemen stretched out their necks, whilst admiration displayed itself here and there by a remark, made in too loud a voice, by a spontaneous sigh, or a stifled laugh. This lasted for five long minutes, beneath the blaze of the three chandeliers. Monsieur Hupel de la Noue, now reassured, smiled beatifically at his poem. He could not resist the temptation of repeating to the people around him, what he had already been saying for a month past: "I thought of doing it in verse. But the lines are more noble, eh?" Then, while the waltz came and went in an endless lullaby, he gave some explanations. Mignon and Charrier had drawn near and were listening attentively.