After a quarter of an hour, he started again the same farce and
repeated it often during the evening; he mimicked as if he were
calling a person on the second floor and giving her equivocal advices
drawn from his imagination of a commercial traveler. At times he
assumed a dismal air and sighed:--"Poor girl!"--or he muttered in
his teeth, with a peevish air:--"Rascal of a Prussian!"--Several
times, when the others did not think of it, he called out
repeatedly in a vibrating voice: "Enough! Enough!" and he added
as if soliloquizing:--"Provided that we see her again and that the
wretch does not kill her!"

Although such jokes were in very bad taste, they amused more than
they shocked the company, for indignation like everything else
depends on environment, and the atmosphere that had gradually
developed around them was laden with naughty thoughts.

At dessert, even the women indulged in witty and discreet allusions.
Their eyes were bright and gleaming; they had drunk considerably.
The Count who, even in his moments of relaxation, preserved
a dignified appearance, found a comparison with the end of winter
in the polar regions and the joy of the ship-wrecked mariners when
they see a way open to the South; and this comparison was greatly
appreciated.

Loiseau, warmed up, rose to his feet with a glass of champagne in
his hands:--"I drink to our deliverance!"--Everybody stood up; he
was acclaimed. Even the two good sisters, urged by the ladies,
consented to moisten their lips with the sparkling wine, which
they had never tasted. They declared that it tasted like sparkling
lemonade, but that it was finer.