Bel Ami | Page 8

of
his friend's invited guests.
On reaching the second floor, he saw another mirror, and once more
slackened his pace to look at himself. He likewise paused before the
third glass, twirled his mustache, took off his hat to arrange his hair,
and murmured half aloud, a habit of his: "Hall mirrors are most
convenient."
Then he rang the bell. The door opened almost immediately, and before
him stood a servant in a black coat, with a grave, shaven face, so
perfect in his appearance that Duroy again became confused as he
compared the cut of their garments.
The lackey asked:

"Whom shall I announce, Monsieur?" He raised a portiere and
pronounced the name.
Duroy lost his self-possession upon being ushered into a world as yet
strange to him. However, he advanced. A young, fair woman received
him alone in a large, well-lighted room. He paused, disconcerted. Who
was that smiling lady? He remembered that Forestier was married, and
the thought that the handsome blonde was his friend's wife rendered
him awkward and ill-at-ease. He stammered out:
"Madame, I am--"
She held out her hand. "I know, Monsieur--Charles told me of your
meeting last night, and I am very glad that he asked you to dine with us
to-day."
Duroy blushed to the roots of his hair, not knowing how to reply; he
felt that he was being inspected from his head to his feet. He half
thought of excusing himself, of inventing an explanation of the
carelessness of his toilette, but he did not know how to touch upon that
delicate subject.
He seated himself upon a chair she pointed out to him, and as he sank
into its luxurious depths, it seemed to him that he was entering a new
and charming life, that he would make his mark in the world, that he
was saved. He glanced at Mme. Forestier. She wore a gown of pale
blue cashmere which clung gracefully to her supple form and rounded
outlines; her arms and throat rose in, lily-white purity from the mass of
lace which ornamented the corsage and short sleeves. Her hair was
dressed high and curled on the nape of her neck.
Duroy grew more at his ease under her glance, which recalled to him,
he knew not why, that of the girl he had met the preceding evening at
the Folies-Bergeres. Mme. Forestier had gray eyes, a small nose, full
lips, and a rather heavy chin, an irregular, attractive face, full of
gentleness and yet of malice.
After a short silence, she asked: "Have you been in Paris a long time?"
Gradually regaining his self-possession, he replied: "a few months,
Madame. I am in the railroad employ, but my friend Forestier has
encouraged me to hope that, thanks to him, I can enter into journalism."
She smiled kindly and murmured in a low voice: "I know."
The bell rang again and the servant announced: "Mme. de Marelle."
She was a dainty brunette, attired in a simple, dark robe; a red rose in

her black tresses seemed to accentuate her special character, and a
young girl, or rather a child, for such she was, followed her.
Mme. Forestier said: "Good evening, Clotilde."
"Good evening, Madeleine."
They embraced each other, then the child offered her forehead with the
assurance of an adult, saying:
"Good evening, cousin."
Mme. Forestier kissed her, and then made the introductions:
"M. Georges Duroy, an old friend of Charles. Mme. de Marelle, my
friend, a relative in fact." She added: "Here, you know, we do not stand
on ceremony."
Duroy bowed. The door opened again and a short man entered, upon
his arm a tall, handsome woman, taller than he and much younger, with
distinguished manners and a dignified carriage. It was M. Walter,
deputy, financier, a moneyed man, and a man of business, manager of
"La Vie Francaise," with his wife, nee Basile Ravalade, daughter of the
banker of that name.
Then came Jacques Rival, very elegant, followed by Norbert de
Varenne. The latter advanced with the grace of the old school and
taking Mme. Forestier's hand kissed it; his long hair falling upon his
hostess's bare arm as he did so.
Forestier now entered, apologizing for being late; he had been detained.
The servant announced dinner, and they entered the dining-room.
Duroy was placed between Mme. de Marelle and her daughter. He was
again rendered uncomfortable for fear of committing some error in the
conventional management of his fork, his spoon, or his glasses, of
which he had four. Nothing was said during the soup; then Norbert de
Varenne asked a general question: "Have you read the Gauthier case?
How droll it was!"
Then followed a discussion of the subject in which the ladies joined.
Then a duel was mentioned and Jacques Rival led the