Estelle had just passed by them.

She was in a pink silk gown and was as pale, flat, silent and virginal as ever.

She had accepted Daguenet very quietly and now evinced neither joy nor sadness, for she was still as cold and white as on those winter evenings when she used to put logs on the fire.

This whole fete given in her honor, these lights and flowers and tunes, left her quite unmoved.
"An adventurer," Mme du Joncquoy was saying.

"For my part, I've never seen him." "Take care, here he is," whispered Mme Chantereau.
Daguenet, who had caught sight of Mme Hugon and her sons, had eagerly offered her his arm.