"Mme. Walter thanks M. Georges Duroy very much, and is at home
on Saturdays."

The next Saturday he called. M. Walter lived on Boulevard
Malesherbes in a double house which he owned. The reception-rooms
were on the first floor. In the antechamber were two footmen; one
took Duroy's overcoat, the other his cane, put it aside, opened a
door and announced the visitor's name. In the large mirror in the
apartment Duroy could see the reflection of people seated in another
room. He passed through two drawing-rooms and entered a small
boudoir in which four ladies were gathered around a tea-table.
Notwithstanding the assurance he had gained during his life in
Paris, and especially since he had been thrown in contact with so
many noted personages, Duroy felt abashed. He stammered:

"Madame, I took the liberty."

The mistress of the house extended her hand and said to him: "You
are very kind, M. Duroy, to come to see me." She pointed to a chair.
The ladies chatted on. Visitors came and went. Mme. Walter noticed
that Duroy said nothing, that no one addressed him, that he seemed
disconcerted, and she drew him into the conversation which dealt
with the admission of a certain M. Linet to the Academy. When Duroy
had taken his leave, one of the ladies said: "How odd he is! Who is
he?"

Mme. Walter replied: "One of our reporters; he only occupies a minor
position, but I think he will advance rapidly."