He laughed pleasantly, at the enthusiastic gaiety which the young girl displayed as she began to question him.

"Is not that the Marquis de Salmon-Roquebert," she asked, "who is sitting over yonder between those two young men who look like shop assistants ?" "They are, in fact, the sons of a small stationer at Tarbes," replied Berthaud; "and that is really the Marquis, your neighbour of the Rue de Lille, the owner of that magnificent mansion, one of the richest and most noble men of title in France.

You see how he is enjoying our mutton stew!" It was true, the millionaire Marquis seemed delighted to be able to board himself for his three francs a day, and to sit down at table in genuine democratic fashion by the side of petty _bourgeois_ and workmen who would not have dared to accost him in the street.

Was not that chance table symbolical of social communion, effected by the joint practice of charity?
For his part, the Marquis was the more hungry that day, as he had bathed over sixty patients, sufferers from all the most abominable diseases of unhappy humanity, at the piscinas that morning.

And the scene around him seemed like a realisation of the evangelical commonalty; but doubtless it was so charming and so gay simply because its duration was limited to three days.
Although M.de Guersaint had but lately risen from table, his curiosity prompted him to taste the mutton stew, and he pronounced it perfect.
Meantime, Pierre caught sight of Baron Suire, the director of the Hospitality, walking about between the rows of tables with an air of some importance, as though he had allotted himself the task of keeping an eye on everything, even on the manner in which his staff fed itself.