As to the countess, she went in a leisurely way from one guest to another, never pressing them, indeed, only pausing a second or two before the gentlemen whom she viewed with an air of dumb interrogation before she smiled and passed on.

The great fire had flushed all her face, and she looked as if she were the sister of her daughter, who appeared so withered and ungainly at her side.

When she drew near Fauchery, who was chatting with her husband and Vandeuvres, she noticed that they grew suddenly silent; accordingly she did not stop but handed the cup of tea she was offering to Georges Hugon beyond them.
"It's a lady who desires your company at supper," the journalist gaily continued, addressing Count Muffat.
The last-named, whose face had worn its gray look all the evening, seemed very much surprised.

What lady was it?
"Oh, Nana!" said Vandeuvres, by way of forcing the invitation.
The count became more grave than before.

His eyelids trembled just perceptibly, while a look of discomfort, such as headache produces, hovered for a moment athwart his forehead.
"But I'm not acquainted with that lady," he murmured.
"Come, come, you went to her house," remarked Vandeuvres.
"What d'you say?
I went to her house?
Oh yes, the other day, in behalf of the Benevolent Organization.