Having married Mademoiselle Therese Montessuy, whose dowry supported his political fortune, he appeared discreetly among the four or five bourgeois, titled and wealthy, who rallied to democracy, and were received without much bad grace by the republicans, whom aristocracy flattered.
In the dining-room, Count Martin-Belleme was doing the honors of his table with the good grace, the sad politeness, recently prescribed at the Elysee to represent isolated France at a great northern court.

From time to time he addressed vapid phrases to Madame Garain at his right; to the Princess Seniavine at his left, who, loaded with diamonds, felt bored.

Opposite him, on the other side of the table, Countess Martin, having by her side General Lariviere and M.Schmoll, member of the Academie des Inscriptions, caressed with her fan her smooth white shoulders.

At the two semicircles, whereby the dinner-table was prolonged, were M.Montessuy, robust, with blue eyes and ruddy complexion; a young cousin, Madame Belleme de Saint-Nom, embarrassed by her long, thin arms; the painter Duviquet; M.Daniel Salomon; then Paul Vence and Garain the deputy; Belleme de Saint-Nom; an unknown senator; and Dechartre, who was dining at the house for the first time.

The conversation, at first trivial and insignificant, was prolonged into a confused murmur, above which rose Garain's voice: "Every false idea is dangerous.