He stammered, without being able to recover his coolness: “I have a great deal to do, Madame, a great deal to do. Monsieur Walter has entrusted me with new duties which give me a great deal of occupation.”
She replied, still looking him in the face, but without his being able to discover anything save good will in her glance: “I know it. But that is no reason for forgetting your friends.”
They were separated by a lady who came in, with red arms and red face, a stout lady in a very low dress, got up with pretentiousness, and walking so heavily that one guessed by her motions the size and weight of her legs. As she seemed to be treated with great attention, Duroy asked Madame Forestier: “Who is that lady?”
“The Viscomtesse de Percemur, who signs her articles ‘Lily Fingers.’ ”
He was astounded, and seized on by an inclination to laugh.
“ ‘Lily Fingers!’ ‘Lily Fingers!’ and I imagined her young like yourself. So that is ‘Lily Fingers.’ That is very funny, very funny.”
A servant appeared in the doorway and announced dinner. The dinner was commonplace and lively, one