This put M. Raindal in good humor, a feeling that confused him, since he had pretentions to generosity and magnanimity. Was it any reason, because M. de Meuze did not bestow admiring glances upon him, because the man's face had worn a constant expression of bored peevishness, to rejoice in these signs of the fatal decrepitude which advancing years.... Mme. Chambannes interrupted him in the midst of this return to fairness. "Tell me, dear master!... What about our great visit to the Louvre?" Alas, they must give up the idea of it for this week, as they had had to the previous weeks for a month, the "great" visit had been put off from week to week. Zozé's every day was taken up. They finally decided to wait and settle upon the date at the next lesson. The conversation turned to less serious subjects. Aunt Panhias, as if she were relieved from a professional secret, let herself go on the subject of Smyrna. Fearing to fall asleep, M. Raindal withdrew at eleven. Downstairs, Mme. Chambannes asked him to invite the ladies on her behalf; would they join him and come to dinner on the forthcoming Thursday? He thanked her profusely but, once he was in the street, he could not repress the annoyance which this difficult mission caused him. "What an idea!" he said to himself.... "Ah, yes, how easy _that_ will be!" He delayed risking the attack for three days; and as soon as he ventured to broach it, the two sharp refusals cut his words short. A rush of blood colored his brow. Of course they agreed; their joint refusal was only a concerted maneuver, a deceitful manifestation of disapproval. He retorted scornfully: "Very well! As you please!... Nevertheless, I have no intention of being a party to your fancies!... I give you warning; I shall go alone...." Neither of them took up his challenge. He renewed it on the Thursday morning but obtained no further reply. His anger prompted him to leave the house at three, an hour earlier than usual. He had donned his evening clothes and, because his dress tie showed in the opening of his overcoat, a few gazers turned round to look at him. This increased his displeasure. He hurried on and arrived half-an-hour too soon. Conversely, and quite against her custom, Mme. Chambannes was half-an-hour late. He waited a whole hour in the smoking-room while daylight gradually faded. The servants had forgotten to turn on the lights. M. Raindal, daring neither to ring for them, nor to tamper with the electric lamps, remained in darkness. Bitter and violent ideas harassed him. Why were Thérèse and Mme. Raindal embittered against the Chambannes? What was it they had on their minds against these people? What did they say of him when he was away? His fury was exasperated by the venomous sting of these queries. "You here, in the dark, dear master!... Is it possible? I am late, am I not?... Do you forgive me?"