His face was pale and very stern, and beneath its crown
of scant white hair it wore an expression of lofty dignity. Scandalized
by Count Muffat's conduct, he had publicly broken off all intercourse
with him and was by way of never again setting foot in the house. If he
had consented to put in an appearance that evening it was because his
granddaughter had begged him to. But he disapproved of her marriage
and had inveighed indignantly against the way in which the government
classes were being disorganized by the shameful compromises engendered
by modern debauchery.
"Ah, it's the end of all things," Mme du Joncquoy whispered in Mme
Chantereau's ear as she sat near the fireplace. "That bad woman has
bewitched the unfortunate man. And to think we once knew him such a true
believer, such a noblehearted gentleman!"
"It appears he is ruining himself," continued Mme Chantereau. "My
husband has had a bill of his in his hands. At present he's living in
that house in the Avenue de Villiers; all Paris is talking about it.
Good heavens! I don't make excuses for Sabine, but you must admit that
he gives her infinite cause of complaint, and, dear me, if she throws
money out of the window, too--"
"She does not only throw money," interrupted the other.
Pages:
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653