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,