CHAPTER V.

THE FIRST INTRIGUE


Two months elapsed. It was September. The fortune which Duroy had
hoped to make so rapidly seemed to him slow in coming. Above all he
was dissatisfied with the mediocrity of his position; he was
appreciated, but was treated according to his rank. Forestier
himself no longer invited him to dinner, and treated him as an
inferior. Often he had thought of making Mme. Forestier a visit, but
the remembrance of their last meeting restrained him. Mme. de
Marelle had invited him to call, saying: "I am always at home about
three o'clock." So one afternoon, when he had nothing to do, he
proceeded toward her house. She lived on Rue Verneuil, on the fourth
floor. A maid answered his summons, and said: "Yes, Madame is at
home, but I do not know whether she has risen." She conducted Duroy
into the drawing-room, which was large, poorly furnished, and
somewhat untidy. The shabby, threadbare chairs were ranged along the
walls according to the servant's fancy, for there was not a trace
visible of the care of a woman who loves her home. Duroy took a seat
and waited some time. Then a door opened and Mme. de Marelle entered
hastily, clad in a Japanese dressing-gown. She exclaimed:

"How kind of you to come to see me. I was positive you had forgotten
me." She held out her hand to him with a gesture of delight; and
Duroy, quite at his ease in that shabby apartment, kissed it as he
had seen Norbert de Varenne do.