"I had a very good place," declared Leonide. "I found it interesting."

Nevertheless, Mme Hugon pitied the poor mother. How sad to lose a
daughter in such a way!

"I am accused of being overreligious," she said in her quiet, frank
manner, "but that does not prevent me thinking the children very cruel
who obstinately commit such suicide."

"Yes, it's a terrible thing," murmured the countess, shivering a little,
as became a chilly person, and huddling herself anew in the depths of
her big chair in front of the fire.

Then the ladies fell into a discussion. But their voices were discreetly
attuned, while light trills of laughter now and again interrupted the
gravity of their talk. The two lamps on the chimney piece, which had
shades of rose-colored lace, cast a feeble light over them while on
scattered pieces of furniture there burned but three other lamps, so
that the great drawing room remained in soft shadow.

Steiner was getting bored. He was describing to Fauchery an escapade of
that little Mme de Chezelles, whom he simply referred to as Leonide.
"A blackguard woman," he said, lowering his voice behind the ladies'
armchairs. Fauchery looked at her as she sat quaintly perched, in her
voluminous ball dress of pale blue satin, on the corner of her armchair.
She looked as slight and impudent as a boy, and he ended by feeling
astonished at seeing her there. People comported themselves better
at Caroline Hequet's, whose mother had arranged her house on serious
principles. Here was a perfect subject for an article. What a strange