[6] Que sert à vos pareils de lire incessamment? Ils sont toujours logés à la troisième chambre, Vêtus au mois de juin comme au mois de décembre, Ayant pour tout laquais leur ombre seulement. Possibly the use he made of this quotation and of this kind of talk was unwise, for it exasperated Madame Bergeret, who was proud of living in a flat in the middle of the town, in a house that was inhabited by people of good position. “Now for the third ‘room,’” said M. Bergeret to himself. Drawing out his watch, he saw that it was eleven o’clock. He had told them not to expect him before noon, as he had intended to spend an hour in Paillot’s shop. But there he had found the shutters up: holidays and Sundays were days of misery to him, simply because the bookseller’s was closed on those days. To-day he had a feeling of annoyance, because he had not been able to pay his usual call on Paillot. On reaching the third storey he turned his key noiselessly in the lock and entered the dining-room with his cautious footstep. It was a dismal room, concerning which M. Bergeret had formed no particular opinion, although in Madame Bergeret’s eyes it was quite artistic, on account of the brass chandelier which hung above the table, the chairs and sideboard of carved oak with which it was furnished, the mahogany whatnot loaded with little cups, and especially on account of the painted china plates that adorned the wall. On entering this room from the dimly lit hall one had the door of the study on the left, and on the right the drawing-room door. Whenever M. Bergeret entered the flat he was in the habit of turning to the left into his study, where solitude, books and slippers awaited him. This time, however, for no particular motive or reason, without thinking what he was doing, he went to the right. He turned the handle, opened the door, took one step and found himself in the drawing-room. He then saw on the sofa two figures linked together in a violent attitude that suggested either endearment or strife, but which was, as a matter of fact, very compromising. Madame Bergeret’s head was turned away and could not be seen, but her feelings were plainly expressed in the generous display of her red stockings. M. Roux’s face wore that strained, solemn, set, distracted look that cannot be mistaken, although one seldom sees it; it agreed with his disordered array. Then, the appearance of everything changed in less than a second, and now M. Bergeret saw before him two quite different persons from those whom he had surprised; two persons who were much embarrassed and whose looks were strange and even rather comical. He would have fancied himself mistaken had not the first picture engraved itself on his sight with a strength that was only equalled by its suddenness. VI