They did not recover themselves until they saw him lift his glass to Suzon, his back on them, again insolently oblivious of them all.

They could not see his face, but they could see the face of Suzon Charlemagne, and they misunderstood the light in her eye, the flush on her cheek.

They set it down to a personal interest in Charley Steele.
Charley had, however, thrown a spell over her in another fashion.

In her eye, in her face, was admiration, the sympathy of a strong intelligence, the wonder of a mind in the presence of its master, but they thought they saw passion, love, desire, in her face--in the face of their Suzon, the pride of the river, the flower of the Cote Dorion.

Not alone because Charley had blasphemed against religion did they hate him at this moment, but because every heart was scorched with envy and jealousy--the black unreasoning jealousy which the unlettered, the dull, the crude, feels for the lettered, the able and the outwardly refined.
Charley was back again in the unfriendly climate of his natural life.
Suzon felt the troubled air round them, saw the dark looks on the faces of the men, and was at once afraid and elated.