Through the door, left ajar, there came, like a lightning-flash, a
streak of light with an accompaniment of the crescendo of the orgy and
the fragrance of a banquet of the choicest description.
The singer peeped through the partly open door, and seeing Hulot
transfixed as if he had been a bronze image, she came one step forward
into the room.
"Monsieur," said she, "I have handed over the rubbish in the Rue
Chauchat to Bixiou's little Heloise Brisetout. If you wish to claim
your cotton nightcap, your bootjack, your belt, and your wax dye, I
have stipulated for their return."
This insolent banter made the Baron leave the room as precipitately as
Lot departed from Gomorrah, but he did not look back like Mrs. Lot.
Hulot went home, striding along in a fury, and talking to himself; he
found his family still playing the game of whist at two sous a point,
at which he left them. On seeing her husband return, poor Adeline
imagined something dreadful, some dishonor; she gave her cards to
Hortense, and led Hector away into the very room where, only five
hours since, Crevel had foretold her the utmost disgrace of poverty.
"What is the matter?" she said, terrified.
"Oh, forgive me--but let me tell you all these horrors.
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