At the very top of the scene, at the end of the chaotic, crawling train of carriages, the Arc de Triomphe, set at an angle, grew whiter against a vast expanse of soot-colored sky.

As the calèche proceeded on its way at a brisker pace than before, Maxime, charmed by the English allure of the landscape, took in the hôtels on both sides of the avenue, town houses of fanciful design whose lawns stretched all the way down to the bridle paths. Renée, still lost in her daydream, was delighted to see the gaslights on the place de l’Etoile illuminated on the horizon one by one, and as those dancing lights stained the dying daylight with small yellow flames, she thought she heard secret calls and was convinced that the flamboyant Paris of winter nights was being kindled for her benefit, lighting the way to that unknown ecstasy for which her jaded senses longed.

The calèche turned down the avenue de la Reine-Hortense and stopped at the end of the rue Monceau, a few steps from the boulevard Malesherbes, before a large mansion with a courtyard in front and a park to the rear. Two gates encrusted with gilt ornaments opened onto the courtyard, each gate flanked by a pair of lamps in the shape of urns similarly bristling with gold appurtenances and equipped with large gaslights. Between the two gates the concierge occupied an elegant gatehouse vaguely reminiscent of a small Greek temple.

Just as the carriage was about to enter the court, Maxime jumped nimbly to the ground.

Renée, grabbing hold of his hand, said, “You know, we sit down to dinner at seven-thirty. You have more than an hour to dress. Don’t keep us waiting.”

With a smile she added, “The Mareuils will be there. . . . Your father wants you to pay particular attention to Louise.”

Maxime shrugged. “That’s some job,” he mumbled grumpily. “I want to get married, but courting her is just too silly. . . . It would be awfully nice of you, Renée, if you saved me from Louise tonight.”

He put on a funny face, borrowing his expression and accent from the actor Lassouche,8 as he did when he was about to come out with one of his customary pleasantries: “Will you, step-mama dear?”

Renée shook hands with him as with a friend. Quickly, in a mocking tone, she tried a nervous sally: “You know, if I hadn’t married your father, I think you might make love to me.”

The young man must have found this idea quite funny, because he was still laughing as he rounded the corner of the boulevard Malesherbes.

The calèche entered the courtyard and stopped in front of the steps of the mansion.

The wide, low steps were sheltered by a huge glass canopy, which was edged with a lambrequin trimmed with gold fringe and tassels. The two stories of the house rose above a servants’ hall, whose small, square windows of frosted glass could be seen almost level with the ground. At the top of the stairs the entrance to the vestibule was set forward and flanked by thin columns recessed into the wall, forming a protruding portion of the façade that had a round bay window on each floor and stretched all the way up to the roof, where it ended in a delta. On either side of this projection each floor had five windows, regularly spaced along the façade and set in simple stone frames. The mansard roof was cut square, with large sections almost vertical.

The façade on the park side was quite a bit more sumptuous. A royal staircase led up to a narrow terrace dominating the entire length of the ground floor. The banister of this terrace, in the style of the gates of the Parc Monceau, was even more gold-encrusted than the canopy and lamps on the courtyard side. Behind it stood the hôtel, with a pavilion at each corner, consisting of a sort of tower half set into the body of the structure, which created space for round rooms inside. In the middle, another turret set still more deeply into the structure made a slight bulge. The windows, high and thin for the pavilions, more widely spaced and almost square on the flat parts of the façade, featured stone balustrades on the ground floor and gilded wrought-iron railings on the upper floors. It was a parade of wealth, a profusion, an embarrassment of riches. The mansion disappeared beneath its sculptures. Around the windows and along the ledges ran coils of branches and flowers. There were balconies that resembled planters held aloft by huge naked women, their hips twisted and nipples thrust forward.