Chapter XIV: The School for Parvenus

"Poor Denise was very downhearted when she went away," said Bertrand to Auguste on the day following the girl's trip to Paris.

"I was very sorry indeed not to be able to talk with her any longer," Dalville replied; "but it wasn't my fault--that lady was waiting for me."

"That lady! That lady might perhaps have waited a few minutes more."

"Bertrand!"

"Excuse me, lieutenant; the fact is, I was really distressed to see you hardly speak to that girl, at whose home we were treated so hospitably. Just remember the welcome they gave us, and how delighted they were to see you!"

"Oh! I haven't forgotten it."

"You didn't even thank her for her present!"

"I didn't see it. But we will go to the village soon, and I will make up for my neglect. I am to dine at Madame de la Thomassinière's to-day, Bertrand; there will be a lot of people, and a large party in the evening. Probably I shall not come home until morning. By the way, make a memorandum to the effect that I have lent a hundred louis to Monsieur le Marquis de Cligneval, who was very unlucky at cards a day or two ago, at a house where I happened to be; he is to pay me very soon."

Bertrand did not reply; but as he went to the cash-box he muttered:

"More money that we shall never see again! He's forever lending, and no one ever pays him back!"

Monsieur de la Thomassinière, whose fortune increased every day, determined to celebrate his wife's birthday by a grand demonstration. The invitations had been issued a week in advance. There was every indication that the banquet would be the most sumptuous that the speculator had ever given. He expected to have at his table marquises and chevaliers who deigned to call him their friend; poets who had promised to mention him in their works; and some old acquaintances whom he expected to overcome by the magnificence of the festivity. Monsieur and Madame Destival were in the last category.

Everybody was in motion in Monsieur de la Thomassinière's palatial mansion. The upholsterers had decorated the salons, prepared the chandeliers and candelabra. The servants flew hither and thither carrying orders; the scullions obeyed the behests of their commander. Three women were in attendance on madame, who had been at her toilet since three o'clock, and it was now five. But Athalie was fickle in her tastes: the thing that pleased her one day displeased her the next day; she had already cast aside two caps, in which she declared that she was hideously ugly; she lost her patience, raged, stamped, tore a superb piece of tulle, pulled a bouquet to pieces, scolded her women, and was on the verge of hysteria because they brought her a set of blue jewelry when she wanted violet. At last they succeeded in pacifying her by assuring her that her hair was arranged to perfection; she deigned to look at herself in the mirror, scowled at first, then smiled, and said at last:

"It is true; I look rather well."

At half-past five the guests began to arrive. Monsieur de la Thomassinière, who was a little less insolent in his own house than in other people's houses, went to meet the titled personages who had condescended to do him the honor of accepting his dinner, and deigned to bestow a smile upon those whom he had honored with an invitation.

Monsieur and Madame Destival arrived in due course. Since he had had a negro, the business agent had adopted the habit of blinking, and pretended to be very short-sighted. His wife was attired with an elegance that rivalled Athalie's own; and her intelligent eyes seemed to assume an even more malicious expression as they rested on the master and mistress of the house.

All the guests appeared at last, Auguste among them. It was a brilliant assemblage: women of fashion, dandies, men with decorations, filled the salon, where Athalie did the honors, apportioning her courtesies to the rank or wealth of their recipients. Monsieur de la Thomassinière stalked proudly through the rooms, saying:

"This affair will make a great sensation! The marquis has promised to mention it at court; there's a poet here, who's a newspaper man too, and he tells me that my name will appear in an article of at least a column! My name in an article a column long! The deuce! how popular I shall be! When Destival can give a dinner like mine, I'll agree that he can call himself somebody. Poor creatures! they are dying of envy, and I'm glad of it!"

At half-past six the company repaired to the dining-room, where the table was laid with forty covers. Monsieur Destival was seated at the lower end, between a child of six and an old deaf gentleman. He swallowed the affront, with a glance at his wife; and their eyes exchanged a meaning look in which they seemed to promise themselves a sweet revenge.

The soup had just been removed, when an uproar, evidently occasioned by people quarrelling, arose in the adjoining room.

"What does this mean? Lafleur! Jasmin! Who dares to make a disturbance in my house?" exclaimed Monsieur de la Thomassinière, calling his servants. "Send away all visitors; I am not at home to anyone; if a gold ingot should be brought to me, I wouldn't accept it now."

The servants seemed embarrassed, as if they dared not reply. Meanwhile the noise continued, and they could distinguish a woman's voice crying:

"I will go in! I tell you I'm bound to go in!"

"Have that canaille turned out of doors, Lafleur," said Monsieur de la Thomassinière angrily.

At that moment the dining-room door was violently thrown open, and a woman of some sixty years, short and stout, with a good-humored face, dressed like an orange-woman, with a round cap on her head, bounced into the room.

"Hoity-toity!" she cried; "it'd be a pretty good one if I couldn't get into my own son's house! What a set of donkeys them fellows be! Excuse me, messieurs and mesdames. Where be you, Thomas? Why don't you come and gimme a kiss, my boy? Don't you know your old mother?"

The changes of scene at the Opéra are less rapid than those that took place in that dining-room upon Mère Thomas's entrance. Monsieur de la Thomassinière was stupefied; it was as if he had been struck by a thunderbolt and was unable to move a muscle or utter a word. The resplendent Athalie turned pale, was evidently confused, and glanced at Mère Thomas with an expression indicating that she still doubted the truth of what she heard. On each guest's face could be read the amazement caused by this unexpected scene, together with a touch of irony and malicious satisfaction, which fell far short, however, of what Destival and his wife felt at that moment.

Mère Thomas, who took no notice of the demeanor of the guests, recognized her son among the persons seated at the table, and ran to him, saying:

"There he is! I know him! That's him--that's my Thomas! Oh! it's him fast enough--with his little mole under the left eye!--You ain't changed so much, my boy.--Well, why don't you kiss me? Can't you move hand or foot?"

As she spoke, the good woman seized her son's head and kissed him several times. La Thomassinière made no resistance; he acted like a man who did not know where he was, while Athalie cried:

"Mon Dieu! is it possible? Isn't this a trick she's playing on us?"

"You didn't look to see me, my boy, eh? Ah! I should say not! This is a surprise, you see; one of your good friends, he writ to me as how it'd do you good to see your mother, and told me I'd better try to get here this very day, 'cos it's your wife's birthday."

At this point the guests looked at one another, trying to divine who it was who had arranged this surprise for Monsieur de la Thomassinière; and among those who were not responsible there were some who regretted that it had not suggested itself to them. As for the master of the feast, he was still too completely crushed by the blow that had been dealt him, to attend to what his mother said; and Athalie seemed to be on the point of swooning.

"So at that," continued Mère Thomas, "I says to myself, says I: 'Off we go!' I had a bit of money put by, and that paid for my seat in the diligence, where we was packed together as tight as herrings, saving your presence, messieurs and mesdames; and here I be in Paris, where you've feathered your nest so well!"

The Marquis de Cligneval, who was seated opposite Monsieur de la Thomassinière, determined to put an end to the embarrassment of his host, upon whose purse he drew too freely not to be ready to shut his eyes to the lowly condition of his parents. So he hastened to intervene, and observed pleasantly:

"It is really very amiable on your excellent mother's part to surprise you like this. She was in such haste that she came in rather a négligé costume. But what does it matter? you are among your friends. Pray let her sit beside me; I shall be delighted to make her acquaintance. She has a most venerable face--a Greek profile. I am very fond of country people; they have such delightful dispositions."

La Thomassinière looked at the marquis with an expression which signified: "You have saved my life!" while Mère Thomas exclaimed:

"What's that he says--I came in négligé. But you're wrong, my boy; I put on my Sunday best."

"Hush! hush, mother, for heaven's sake!" whispered La Thomassinière. "Be careful; you're speaking to a marquis."

"A what? What did you say, Thomas?--But I say, where's my darter-in-law? Show her to me, my boy; wouldn't she like to give her man's mother a kiss?"

"Madame de la Thomassinière, pray embrace your mother-in-law," said Madame Destival, with a mocking glance at Athalie.

"I can't stand it any longer! I am dying!" murmured Athalie in an expiring voice; and she fell over upon Auguste, who was seated next her.

"My wife has fainted!" cried La Thomassinière, overjoyed by an incident which might divert the attention of the company; and he sprang to his feet and rushed toward his wife, who was already surrounded by several people.

"Oho! is that your wife, that bleating little minx?" exclaimed Mère Thomas. "She's ate too much, my boy; she's got the indigestion, sure enough. Just give her a drink of brandy--that'll settle her stomach."

Someone gave Athalie smelling salts; she was taken into the fresh air; but she was careful not to recover consciousness. Mère Thomas pushed away two petites-maîtresses who were aiding her daughter-in-law, saying:

"Look out, my little darlings, you're stifling the child. Bless me! if you want to bring her to right off, I know what'll do it; two or three slaps on the backsides--that'll bring a woman to in short order; it never fails."

The ladies exchanged glances and moved away from Madame Thomas, saying to one another:

"This is shocking! it is getting to be unbearable."

"She amuses me immensely, my dear."

"For my part, she makes me blush; whenever she opens her mouth I tremble for fear that some disgusting remark will come out."

"She has begun well."

"This is a hysterical attack," said La Thomassinière; "madame must be taken to her room. They always last two or three hours, at least."

"Well, well! that's very nice!" said Mère Thomas.

The hostess was taken to her room, and she vowed to herself that she would not leave it so long as Madame Thomas should be in the house.

However, for most of the guests the dinner was the most essential thing, and Madame de la Thomassinière had no sooner been taken from the dining-room than they all resumed their places at the table, with such remarks as: "It won't amount to anything; it isn't dangerous." All of which meant: "We have paid enough attention to the hostess, who thought it best to faint; now let's think of our stomachs, and not neglect any longer the delicious dishes that have been prepared for us."

La Thomassinière would gladly have followed his wife; but he realized that it would be discourteous to leave his guests, with whom he had already changed his tone. So he returned to his seat, cudgelling his brain to devise a method of imposing silence on his dear mother. Destival, meanwhile, fearing that Madame Thomas might be spirited away, offered her his hand to escort her to her seat by the marquis. Mère Thomas accepted his hand with a: "Thank 'ee, my man," and planted herself on a chair beside Monsieur de Cligneval.

"Now, my spark, I don't need your hand no more," she said to her escort; "when it comes to forks and teeth, I can go it alone, friend."

"She is overflowing with wit!" cried the marquis; "really, her repartees are delicious!"

La Thomassinière, who was afraid to raise his eyes, tried to hurry the dinner. But his guests did not support him; they were very comfortable at table and did full honor to the feast. The marquis stuffed Mère Thomas; he kept her plate constantly filled, hoping that that would stop her chatter; but she was a shrewd old girl, who could do two things at once. While she was eating, she kept repeating:

"Dieu! how good this is! What a fine _fricot_! I ain't never ate anything as tasted like this! I say, Thomas, my boy, we don't make such good fricassees to our little cabaret at the sign of the Learned Ass! Do you remember, boy?"

"Who wants some truffles? who hasn't any truffles?" cried Monsieur de la Thomassinière, trying to drown his mother's voice. But Madame Destival, who had heard every word, inquired:

"What do you say, madame? Did Monsieur de la Thomassinière ever keep a cabaret?"

"La Thomassinière!" echoed Mère Thomas, emptying her glass. "Who's that, my heart?"

"Your son, madame."

"What! don't you call yourself Thomas no more, my son? So that's what all them green monkeys stitched with gold, in your outside room, meant when they said this wa'n't where you lived! What have you dropped your father's name for, Thomas? Didn't it sound good enough for you? Let me tell you he was an honest man, who sold wine for six sous a litre without putting any drugs in it, like your swindlers in Paris!--Excuse me, friends."

"Monsieur your son calls himself La Thomassinière now," said the marquis, "from the name of an estate that he has bought. That is the custom in Paris; he hasn't changed his name but he has lengthened it a little; it's pleasanter to the ear."

"Yes, to be sure," said La Thomassinière, trying to recover his self-assurance. "When one has made a fortune as _consequential_ as mine, one is at liberty to forget. Besides, as monsieur le marquis says, it's done every day."

"Oh! that makes a difference," rejoined Mère Thomas, "if you've been a-buying estates. That's worse than the Marquis de Carabas. But for all that, my boy, you'd ought to sent for me to come to see you sooner; for I've been just a little bit homesick down to our place; it's a regular hole, and I couldn't have such a devil of a spree with the two hundred francs you send me every year."

"Mon Dieu! how outrageous!" cried a lady wearing a cap adorned by a bird-of-paradise, pushing her chair away from the table; while the gentlemen glanced at one another, laughing, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière stretched his feet under the table trying to find those of his excellent mother, who sat opposite him, and to whom he vainly made signals to urge her to be quiet.

"What struck that party?" said Mère Thomas, staring at the lady in the cap. "Is she going to faint too? What's she making faces at me for, with that tail of a kite on her head?"

"Mother, I implore you!" said La Thomassinière, moving his feet frantically.

"Down! down, I say! there's dogs under the table, boy. Here's two or three on 'em running atween my legs. Tell someone to give 'em something to eat, so they'll leave us alone. Give me a drink! Who's going to fill my glass? you, old boy?"

It was the marquis to whom this question was addressed; he took a decanter of madeira that stood before him and filled the glass of his neighbor, who always refused to drink without touching glasses.

"What's this yellow wine, my boy?"

"Madeira, madame."

"Pretty good, eh?"

"Perfect! it's the best I ever drank."

"Here's your health then, my buck; and yours, old fox!"

The last remark was addressed to Madame Thomas's left hand neighbor, an old chevalier, with his hair curled and powdered in the style in vogue during the Regency, who seemed extremely ill-pleased to be seated beside Monsieur de la Thomassinière's mother. He turned his head whenever she looked at him, and did not answer when she spoke to him. This time Madame Thomas held her glass over the old fellow's plate, so that it was impossible for him to avoid replying, and he muttered disdainfully:

"I don't drink, madame."

"Ah! you don't drink, don't you, old bean-pole? Well then, you can go without, that's all. You needn't put on so many airs; you look as pleasant as a bad clove!--Your health, my son, and yours, messieurs, mesdames, and the whole company; and yours, too, you green monkey, as didn't want to let me in."

This compliment was aimed at Lafleur. Monsieur de la Thomassinière beat his brow in despair, while the marquis repeated till he was hoarse:

"Excellent! excellent! The old patriarchal custom--to drink everybody's health. Noah's children always touched one another's glasses."

Madame Thomas tossed off the glass of madeira at a swallow; but when she had drunk it, she made a wry face and glared at the marquis, crying:

"God! what vile stuff your madeira is! Bah! it tastes like a donkey's water right in your mouth, my children!"

All the ladies cried out and hid their faces behind their napkins. The men laughed; and Madame Thomas, who saw nothing unnatural in what she had said and thought that they shared her amusement, caused her glass to be filled with another kind of wine; while her son sank back in his chair, muttering:

"I am a ruined man!"

The more Madame Thomas drank, the more loquacious she became. In vain did the marquis fill her plate, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière call to his servants: "Serve monsieur! Remove madame's plate!" the stout old lady's voice soared above those of all her fashionable neighbors, for people of fashion are not in the habit of speaking loud.

The old gentleman with the pigeon's wings, whom Madame Thomas had called a clove, could not digest that insult; he scowled terribly, tried to turn his back on his neighbor, and muttered:

"It's abominable to invite people like myself to compromise their dignity with such riff-raff! Gad! if they ever catch me here again! I am terribly distressed that I came."

For all that, the old chevalier did not go away, but ate and drank for four, by way of compensation for the annoyance that he felt.

Mère Thomas wanted some of everything, she called for all the dishes that she saw, and she would say to the marquis:

"What's that, my fine little fellow?"

"_Poulet à la Marengo_, madame."

"My soul! how it's disguised! Never mind, just pass me a wing.--And what's that black stew over yonder?"

"A salmi of partridge _aux truffes_."

"That must be heating; but give me a bit of your _salmigondis aux truffes_, I'll take the chances.--and that big dish all covered over with sauce?"

"That's a _Sultane à la Chantilly_."

"A sultana! The dear boy! does he take us for Turks, I wonder! Just give me a taste of that too, so that I'll know how those miserable dogs cook."

"You'll make yourself ill, Madame Thomas," said La Thomassinière in an undertone, horrified to see his mother's eyes grow brighter and brighter, and that she insisted on tasting all the wines as well as all the dishes.

"Get out, boy, I've got a stomach like an ostrich! Don't you remember the bet I made one day with our cousin as kept the eating house? A fine man, he was! He died three year ago, poor Chahû!"

"Lafleur! Jasmin! Comtois! take these plates away; serve the dessert, I say!"

In vain did Monsieur de la Thomassinière shout to his servants--his mother continued her narrative none the less:

"You must know, my children, that Chahû was one of the biggest eaters in all Brie; he was a chap with a big head, and he'd put down a turkey, saving your presence, just as slick as you or me'd swallow a lark. Bless my soul, if he didn't take a fancy one day to bet me that he'd eat more'n me of a rabbit stew I'd made for a mason's wedding feast. I'm a sly fox, so I took his bet; and when we'd got half through, I told him in confidence that it was cats as I'd stewed up; and at that my jackass turned up his toes and got rid of his dinner on the floor."

The ladies refused to listen to any more; they left the table and took refuge in the salon. Monsieur de la Thomassinière was beside himself; he turned red, yellow and lead-colored in turn; the perspiration stood on his brow; he poured wine in his plate and put his fork in his glass. The young men laughed heartily, Auguste with the rest, for he was of the opinion that his host well deserved this little lesson. Destival was radiant; his eyes sparkled with delight as he looked from one person to another and finally fastened his gaze on La Thomassinière. The Marquis de Cligneval looked at his host with an expression which signified: "Gad! I've done what I could; but, as you see, it's impossible to hold her back."

"Well! what makes all them pretty females go scooting off at once?" queried Mère Thomas; "be they all going to the closet together? I say, it's like the hens down our way: when one goes, the others have to follow."

A young poet, who had written some verses for Madame de la Thomassinière, and who was exceedingly annoyed because Mère Thomas's arrival, by causing Athalie to swoon and putting the ladies to flight, had prevented him from reciting his quatrain, which would, so he thought, create a sensation, said to the buxom dame, as he readjusted his collar:

"Madame, it is your fault in some degree that the Graces have fled from us."

"What's that you say, my little dapper?" retorted Mère Thomas, planting both elbows on the table, the better to observe the young man.

"I say, madame," replied the poet, "that the Graces are easily frightened, and that----"

"What's that you're singing about your Graces! Be they birds you're trying to tame?"

"Madame, the Graces are the ladies; the Zephyrs and the Loves fly at their heels; Pleasure and Laughter form their train and strew roses along their path."

"Phew! what sort of a stew is that, my boy, made out of roses and rice."[D]

[D] _Ris_, meaning _laughter_, has the same pronunciation as _riz_ (rice).

"I mean to imply, madame, that there are remarks at which modesty takes offence, and that, when telling stories, you should touch very lightly upon certain subjects, for

"'Le Latin dans les mots brave l'honnêteté,
Mais l'auditeur Français veut être respecté!
Du moindre sens impur la liberté l'outrage
Si la pudeur des mots n'en adoucit l'image.'"[E]

[E] The Latin tongue defies decency, but the French listener insists on being treated with respect. He is offended by the faintest touch of impurity of sense unless the image is softened by the decency of the words.

Mère Thomas roared with laughter, and, turning to her neighbor with the pigeon's wings, who was dipping a macaroon in champagne, his face still wearing a scowl, she said:

"Do you understand that, old fox? That fellow says he's got impure senses; it ain't decent to make a confession like that at dessert."

"Ah! madame!" cried the poet, flushing with wrath, "no one ever dared----"

"What's up, Biribi? Bah! you're losing your temper, my lad, you're red as a turkey-cock; I see that; but I'm a good-natured fool, and I ain't got no more gall 'n a flea. Let's drink together; that's better'n talking about your fat women--grasses, Graces--and your thin women, what I don't know nothing about. Some wine, marquis--that nice little wine as foams. Oh! I know what this is; it's champagne, that's what it is; it ain't no fraud, like your madeira! Your health, my little duckies; yours, Thomas. Whatever's the matter with you, my son? You don't say nothing, and you look as queer as queer; be you going to go off the hooks, like your wife? We must have a song, children; that's always the thing at dessert. Come! who's going to be the one to begin? Thomas, you used to know lots o' songs; I'm going to sing you the one Chahû's wife sung to my wedding:

"'J'entre en train quand il entre en train,
J'entre en train quand il entre--'"

You must sing the chorus, children."

"One moment, one moment, madame," said the marquis; "pray wait for the coffee and liqueurs."

"Oh, yes! that's so, my friend; they'll clear my voice."

"This is getting worse and worse!" said the marquis to his host in an undertone.

"Oh! monsieur le marquis, I am in utter despair; I am overwhelmed with confusion; I am afraid to turn my head!"

"Why, my dear fellow, I am not in the least offended; a great many people have mothers who are--who are not precisely noble. That does not prevent your being a man whom I esteem beyond measure, nor does it make your dinner any the less delicious. But there are people in society who are not so sensible as I am, and in whose estimation this may do you an injury. To say nothing of the fact that our dear mamma is getting tipsy, and I don't know what she may not sing us before she is through."

"And to think that I expect more than eighty people to-night for the ball--the most fashionable and most distinguished people in Paris! Save me, monsieur le marquis; I lay my purse, my cash-box, my credit, at your feet!"

"My dear La Thomassinière, my friendship for you is an sufficient motive to--However, I believe that I have a note for six thousand francs to meet to-morrow."

"You will allow me to attend to that, monsieur le marquis."

"We must devise some way to make everybody leave the house."

"Yes, and as soon as possible."

"Wait--I have an idea--Yes, on my word, it's an excellent idea."

"Ah! monsieur le marquis! my gratitude----"

"It may cost you rather dear, but I see no other resource."

"I am ready to make every possible sacrifice."

"Very good; let me set to work. Go back to the table as if nothing were in the wind. Tell your servants to carry out my orders, and await their effect."

"Lafleur, Jasmin, Comtois, obey monsieur le marquis rather than myself."

The marquis left the dining-room, followed by the servants, and La Thomassinière returned to the table. Coffee and liqueurs were served. The marquis soon reappeared and resumed his seat beside Madame Thomas, reassuring his host with a glance.

Mère Thomas hummed as she drank her coffee.

"My children," she said, "we must have a dance to-night; I feel twenty year younger. Thomas, you'll take a turn, I hope? Give me a glass, marquis; but none of that sugary stuff that sticks in your gullet. Give me something stiff and strong, my friend; that's the only kind that makes you feel good."

Madame Thomas had taken two petits verres of brandy, one of rum and one of kirsch; she was declaring that they were very refreshing, and seemed disposed to go on drinking, when a cloud of smoke arose in the courtyard and found its way into the rooms. The guests looked at each other uneasily.

"Seems to me there's a bit of a fog," said Mère Thomas; "it smells like something burning; be any of you sitting on a foot-warmer?"

The servants rushed into the room, shouting in dismay:

"The house is on fire!"

"Fire!" cried all the guests, springing from their chairs. Mère Thomas alone remained seated.

"Well! all you got to do is fling water on it!" she said.

"My house on fire!" said Monsieur de la Thomassinière, glancing at the marquis. "How can it have happened? Ah! there was a pile of straw--somebody must have dropped a match on it. Look, monsieur, see what a smoke there is in the courtyard!"

As it was about nine o'clock in the evening, the flame made by a number of bunches of straw, which the marquis had fired, made the courtyard as light as day. The cry of _fire_! soon arose on all sides; it reached the salon, and the ladies who had taken refuge there from the society of Madame Thomas, rushed out shrieking, and calling their fathers or their husbands.

The gentlemen tried to allay their fears, saying: "It's nothing, it won't amount to anything; but we must go as soon as possible. Get your bonnets and shawls; make haste, for ladies should never stay where everything is in confusion. We will go with you."

Meanwhile the fire which the marquis had kindled, in order to put the guests to flight, and which the servants did not think of putting out, because they knew that it was a ruse on their master's part,--the fire actually attacked the carriage-house and spread from that to the stable. While the ladies went to get their shawls and the men their hats, and while the servants ran through the rooms shouting _fire_! the danger had become real, and no one discovered it until a large part of the courtyard was already wrapped in flames.

Thereupon tumult and confusion held full sway; the ladies fled into the street; one lost her turban, another her cap, and several fainted. Auguste took Athalie in his arms and carried her to a stone bench in the next street. Amid the general upheaval, Mère Thomas decided at last to leave the table; she raised her skirts above her knees and began to run, crying out:

"Just look at all them friends of Thomas's! the cowardly skunks are running away instead of forming a line! and they'd leave me here to roast just like a chestnut!"

The results of the marquis's little ruse were one wing of the house burned, four horses burned, three firemen injured, ten shawls lost, fifteen hats stolen, six locks of hair scorched, three bracelets lost, and two combs broken; but Monsieur de la Thomassinière made himself whole with twenty thousand francs, and at all events his worthy mother did not exhibit herself to the numerous guests who were invited for the evening.