Thus argued vanity and ambition with her better self and to her vast
annoyance her better self would not admit entire conviction.

Meanwhile, M. de La Tour d'Azyr was climbing into his carriage. He
had spoken a word of farewell to M. de Kercadiou, and he had also
had a word for M. de Vilmorin in reply to which M. de Vilmorin had
bowed in assenting silence. The carriage rolled away, the powdered
footman in blue-and-gold very stiff behind it, M. de La Tour d'Azyr
bowing to mademoiselle, who waved to him in answer.

Then M. de Vilmorin put his arm through that of Andre Louis, and said
to him, "Come, Andre."

"But you'll stay to dine, both of you!" cried the hospitable Lord
of Gavrillac. "We'll drink a certain toast," he added, winking an
eye that strayed towards mademoiselle, who was approaching. He had
no subtleties, good soul that he was.

M. de Vilmorin deplored an appointment that prevented him doing
himself the honour. He was very stiff and formal.

"And you, Andre?"

"I? Oh, I share the appointment, godfather," he lied, "and I have
a superstition against toasts." He had no wish to remain. He was
angry with Aline for her smiling reception of M. de La Tour d'Azyr
and the sordid bargain he saw her set on making. He was suffering
from the loss of an illusion.