“Will we have the pleasure of seeing His Excellency this evening?” M. Hupel de la Noue politely inquired in the meantime.

“I think not,” Saccard answered with an air of importance that hid a secret annoyance. “My brother is so busy! . . . He sent his secretary, M. de Saffré, to offer his regrets.”

The young secretary, whom Mme Michelin was unmistakably monopolizing, looked up at the sound of his name and, thinking that he was being addressed, blurted out the first thing that popped into his head: “Yes, yes, there is to be a meeting of ministers at nine o’clock in the offices of the minister of justice.”

Meanwhile, M. Toutin-Laroche, who had been interrupted, plodded gravely on as if holding forth to a silently attentive city council. “The results have been superb. This municipal bond issue will go down in history as one of the finest financial operations of the era. Gentlemen—”

At that moment, however, his voice was once again drowned out by the laughter that suddenly erupted at the far end of the table. In the midst of this burst of gaiety one could make out the voice of Maxime, who was coming to the end of an anecdote: “Wait, now, I haven’t finished. The poor amazon was picked up by a ditch digger. They say she’s arranged for him to receive an excellent education, so that she can marry him later on. No one but her husband should be able to boast of having seen a certain mole on her body somewhere above her knee.” The laughter resumed, louder than before. Louise joined in heartily, laughing even louder than the men. Softly, as if deaf to the laughter all around, the footmen at that moment stuck their grave pale faces between the shoulders of the guests and in low voices offered each of the diners a helping of aiguillettes de canard sauvage.¹⁴

Saccard was angry that no one was paying attention to Toutin-Laroche. To show that he had been listening, he said, “The municipal bond issue—”

But M. Toutin-Laroche was not a man to lose the thread of an idea. “Gentlemen,” he continued when the laughter subsided, “yesterday was a great consolation to those of us whose administration has been the butt of so many scurrilous attacks. They say that the city council has led Paris to ruin, but as you see, the moment the city floats a bond issue, everybody comes to us with money, even those who rail against us.”

“You’ve worked miracles,” Saccard said. “Paris has become the capital of the world.”

“Yes, it’s truly astounding,” Hupel de la Noue interrupted. “Just imagine, I’m a Parisian from way back, and I no longer know my way around my own city. Yesterday I got lost going from the Hôtel de Ville to Luxembourg.¹⁵ It’s astounding, astounding!”

Silence followed. All the serious men were listening now.

“The transformation of Paris,” Toutin-Laroche continued, “will be the glory of the Emperor’s reign. People are ungrateful: they ought to kiss his feet. I said as much to the council just this morning, when we were discussing the huge success of the bond issue. ‘Gentlemen,’ I said, ‘let those loudmouths in the opposition say what they will: to turn Paris over, as it were, is to make the city fertile.’ ”

Saccard shut his eyes and smiled, as if to savor the finesse of the phrase all the more. He leaned over behind Mme d’Espanet and made a comment to Hupel de la Noue in a voice loud enough to be heard: “What a delightful wit.”

Now that the talk had turned to construction projects in Paris, the worthy Charrier was craning his neck as if to take part in the conversation. His partner Mignon was fully taken up with Mme Sidonie, who was keeping him quite busy. Since the beginning of the dinner Saccard had been watching the contractors out of the corner of his eye.

“The government,” he said, “is fortunate to have found such dedicated partners. Everyone was eager to contribute to such a grand design. Without the aid of well-endowed companies, the city would never have been able to accomplish so much in so short a time.”

Then he turned and in a flatteringly direct way added, “Messieurs Mignon and Charrier know a thing or two about it, for they had their share in the toil and will have their share of the glory.”

The former bricklayers, now both men of means, naïvely swelled with pride at this blunt comment. Mignon had been listening to Sidonie’s simpering: “Oh, sir, you flatter me. No, pink would be too young for me—” But now he left her hanging in midsentence to respond to Saccard.

“You’re too kind. We were just going about our business, that’s all.”

Charrier was more polished. While finishing his glass of Pommard, he managed to come up with a phrase: “The renewal of Paris has been the lifeblood of the working man.”

“To which,” Toutin-Laroche replied, “one must add that it’s given a magnificent boost to banking and industry as well.”

“And don’t forget the artistic side: the new avenues are majestic,” added Hupel de la Noue, who prided himself on having taste.

“Yes, yes, it’s been a fine undertaking,” murmured M. de Mareuil, so as to say something.

“As for the expense,” gravely declared the deputy Haffner, who never opened his mouth except on great occasions, “our children will pay for it, as is only right.”

As he said this, he happened to be looking at M. de Saffré, from whom the pretty Mme Michelin seemed to have turned away a moment earlier, so that the young secretary, in order to appear to have been following what people were saying, repeated, “As is only right, indeed.”

All of the serious men in the group at the center of the table had now had their say. M. Michelin, the head of the road department, smiled and nodded. This was his usual way of taking part in a conversation. He had smiles to greet, to respond, to approve, to thank, and to bid farewell, a whole collection of lovely smiles that virtually dispensed him from ever having to utter a word, for he no doubt judged it both more polite and more beneficial to his career to hold his tongue.

Another personage had also remained silent: Baron Gouraud, who chewed his cud slowly, like a heavy-lidded ox. Until that moment he had seemed wholly absorbed in the spectacle of his plate. Renée, who had made a great fuss over him, had obtained nothing more than faint grunts of satisfaction for her pains. So it came as a surprise when he raised his head, wiped his fat lips, and said, “As a landlord, when I renovate and decorate an apartment, I raise the rent.”

It was Haffner’s remark—“Our children will pay”—that had roused the senator. As everyone clapped discreetly, M. de Saffré exclaimed, “Oh, charming, charming! I’ll send that one to the newspapers tomorrow.”

“You’re right, gentlemen,” Mignon interjected, as if to round out the conversation while everyone was still smiling and murmuring appreciatively over the baron’s remark. “These are good times. I know more than one fellow who’s added a tidy sum to his nest egg. When you’re making money, you know, everything looks good.”

These last words cast an icy chill over the grave men at the center of the table. The conversation came to an abrupt halt, and neighbor avoided looking at neighbor. It was as though the former bricklayer, in trying to pay these very serious gentlemen a compliment, had dropped a ton of bricks on them. Michelin, who had as a matter of fact been contemplating Saccard in a most pleasant manner, stopped smiling, terrified at the thought that he might have seemed for a moment to take the contractor’s words as applying to their host. Saccard himself glanced at Mme Sidonie, who again turned her full attention to Mignon: “So you like pink, do you?” He then complimented Mme d’Espanet at length. The young woman’s dark, sly face almost touched her milky white shoulders, which she threw back slightly as she laughed.

When the time for dessert arrived, the footmen picked up their pace. There was a pause while the table was heaped with fruits and sweets. At Maxime’s end, the laughter grew brighter. Louise’s rather shrill voice could be heard: “I assure you that Sylvia was wearing a blue satin dress when she played Dindonette.” To which another high-pitched voice added, “Yes, but the dress was trimmed with white lace.” Warmth suffused the room. The faces of the guests, now somewhat flushed, seemed softened by some inner bliss. Two footmen went around the table pouring Alicante and Tokay.¹⁶