Mme. Walter added with her customary, serious grace: "You will have
a charming title: 'Souvenirs of a Soldier in Africa.' Will he not,
M. Norbert?"

The old poet, who had attained renown late in life, disliked and
mistrusted newcomers. He replied dryly: "Yes, excellent, provided
that it is written in the right key, for there lies the great
difficulty."

Mme. Forestier cast upon Duroy a protecting and smiling glance which
seemed to say: "You shall succeed." The servant filled the glasses
with wine, and Forestier proposed the toast: "To the long prosperity
of 'La Vie Francaise.'" Duroy felt superhuman strength within him,
infinite hope, and invincible resolution. He was at his ease now
among these people; his eyes rested upon their faces with renewed
assurance, and for the first time he ventured to address his
neighbor:

"You have the most beautiful earrings I have ever seen."

She turned toward him with a smile: "It is a fancy of mine to wear
diamonds like this, simply on a thread."

He murmured in reply, trembling at his audacity: "It is charming--
but the ear increases the beauty of the ornament."

She thanked him with a glance. As he turned his head, he met Mme.
Forestier's eyes, in which he fancied he saw a mingled expression of
gaiety, malice, and encouragement. All the men were talking at the