And guests still kept arriving, and a footman announced their names while gentlemen advanced slowly amid the surrounding groups, striving to find places for ladies, who hung with difficulty on their arms, and stretching forward in quest of some far-off vacant armchair.
The house kept filling, and crinolined skirts got jammed together with a little rustling sound.

There were corners where an amalgam of laces, bunches and puffs would completely bar the way, while all the other ladies stood waiting, politely resigned and imperturbably graceful, as became people who were made to take part in these dazzling crushes.
Meanwhile across the garden couples, who had been glad to escape from the close air of the great drawing room, were wandering away under the roseate gleam of the Venetian lamps, and shadowy dresses kept flitting along the edge of the lawn, as though in rhythmic time to the music of the quadrille, which sounded sweet and distant behind the trees.
Steiner had just met with Foucarmont and La Faloise, who were drinking a glass of champagne in front of the buffet.
"It's beastly smart," said La Faloise as he took a survey of the purple tent, which was supported by gilded lances.

"You might fancy yourself at the Gingerbread Fair.

That's it--the Gingerbread Fair!" In these days he continually affected a bantering tone, posing as the young man who has abused every mortal thing and now finds nothing worth taking seriously.
"How surprised poor Vandeuvres would be if he were to come back," murmured Foucarmont.

"You remember how he simply nearly died of boredom in front of the fire in there.