of the cut of their respective garments. The manservant, who had patent-leather shoes, asked, as he took the overcoat which Duroy had carried on his arm, to avoid exposing the stains on it: “Whom shall I announce?”
And he announced the name through a door with a looped-back draping leading into a drawing-room.
But Duroy, suddenly losing his assurance, felt himself breathless and paralyzed by terror. He was about to take his first step in the world he had looked forward to and longed for. He advanced, nevertheless. A fair young woman, quite alone, was standing awaiting him in a large room, well lit up and full of plants as a greenhouse.
He stopped short, quite disconcerted. Who was this lady who was smiling at him? Then he remembered that Forestier was married, and the thought that this pretty and elegant blonde must be his friend’s wife completed his alarm.
He stammered: “Madame, I am—”
She held out her hand, saying: “I know, sir; Charles has told me of your meeting last evening, and I am very pleased that he had the idea of asking you to dine with us today.”
He blushed up to his ears, not knowing what to say, and felt himself examined from head to foot, reckoned up, and judged.
He longed to excuse himself, to invent some pretext for explaining the deficiencies of his toilet, but he could not think of one, and did not dare touch on this difficult subject.
He sat down on an armchair she pointed out to him, and as he felt the soft and springy velvet-covered seat yield beneath his weight, as he felt himself, as it were, supported and clasped by the padded back and arms,