In the slight puffs of air which came from outside the tapers flared up brilliantly, and when a dress floated by in time to the rat-tat of the measure, a little gust of wind cooled the sparkling heat which streamed down from the lusters.
"Egad, they're not cold in there!" muttered La Faloise.
They blinked after emerging from the mysterious shadows of the garden.
Then they pointed out to one another the Marquis de Chouard where he stood apart, his tall figure towering over the bare shoulders which surrounded him.

His face was pale and very stern, and beneath its crown of scant white hair it wore an expression of lofty dignity.

Scandalized by Count Muffat's conduct, he had publicly broken off all intercourse with him and was by way of never again setting foot in the house.

If he had consented to put in an appearance that evening it was because his granddaughter had begged him to.

But he disapproved of her marriage and had inveighed indignantly against the way in which the government classes were being disorganized by the shameful compromises engendered by modern debauchery.
"Ah, it's the end of all things," Mme du Joncquoy whispered in Mme Chantereau's ear as she sat near the fireplace.