Chapter 11

MADAME WALTER TAKES A HAND

On entering the office the following day, Du Roy sought Boisrenard
and told him to warn his associates not to continue the farce of
calling him Forestier, or there would be war. When Du Roy returned
an hour later, no one called him by that name. From the office he
proceeded to his home, and hearing the sound of ladies' voices in
the drawing-room, he asked the servant: "Who is here?"

"Mme. Walter and Mme. de Marelle," was the reply.

His heart pulsated violently as he opened the door. Clotilde was
seated by the fireplace; it seemed to Georges that she turned pale
on perceiving him.

Having greeted Mme. Walter and her two daughters seated like
sentinels beside her, he turned to his former mistress. She extended
her hand; he took and pressed it as if to say: "I love you still!"
She returned the pressure.

He said: "Have you been well since we last met?"

"Yes; have you, Bel-Ami?" And turning to Madeleine she added: "Will
you permit me to call him Bel-Ami?"

"Certainly, my dear; I will permit anything you wish."

A shade of irony lurked beneath those words, uttered so pleasantly.

Mme. Walter mentioned a fencing-match to be given at Jacques Rival's
apartments, the proceeds to be devoted to charities, and in which
many society ladies were going to assist. She said: "It will be very
entertaining; but I am in despair, for we have no one to escort us,
my husband having an engagement."

Du Roy offered his services at once. She accepted, saying: "My
daughters and I shall be very grateful."

He glanced at the younger of the two girls and thought: "Little
Suzanne is not at all bad, not at all."

She resembled a doll, being very small and dainty, with a well-
proportioned form, a pretty, delicate face, blue-gray eyes, a fair
skin, and curly, flaxen hair. Her elder sister, Rose, was plain--one
of those girls to whom no attention is ever paid. Her mother rose,
and turning to Georges, said: "I shall count on you next Thursday at
two o'clock."

He replied: "Count upon me, Madame."

When the door closed upon Mme. Walter, Mme. de Marelle, in her turn,
rose.

"Au revoir, Bel-Ami."

This time she pressed his hand and he was moved by that silent
avowal. "I will go to see her to-morrow," thought he.

Left alone with his wife, she laughed, and looking into his eyes
said: "Mme. Walter has taken a fancy to you!"

He replied incredulously: "Nonsense!"

"But I know it. She spoke of you to me with great enthusiasm. She
said she would like to