Beneath the Genoa velvet hangings, the gilding and the paintings,
the lusters exhaled a living heat and a great glow of sunlight, while
the crowd of guests, multiplied in the surrounding mirrors, seemed to
grow and increase as the murmur of many voices rose ever louder. The
couples who whirled round the drawing room, arm about waist, amid the
smiles of the seated ladies, still further accentuated the quaking of
the floors. In the garden a dull, fiery glow fell from the Venetian
lanterns and threw a distant reflection of flame over the dark shadows
moving in search of a breath of air about the walks at its farther end.
And this trembling of walls and this red glow of light seemed to betoken
a great ultimate conflagration in which the fabric of an ancient honor
was cracking and burning on every side. The shy early beginnings
of gaiety, of which Fauchery one April evening had heard the vocal
expression in the sound of breaking glass, had little by little grown
bolder, wilder, till they had burst forth in this festival. Now the
rift was growing; it was crannying the house and announcing approaching
downfall. Among drunkards in the slums it is black misery, an empty
cupboard, which put an end to ruined families; it is the madness of
drink which empties the wretched beds.
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