Though the jokes were in the most deplorable taste, everyone, far from being shocked, was in fits of laughter. Indignation, like everything else is the product of environment and the atmosphere gradually created around them was by now frankly bawdy. By dessert, even the women were making risqué little remarks. Eyes were sparkling and much wine had been drunk. The Comte, who even in his cups maintained a façade of great seriousness, made a much enjoyed comparison between their present situation and that of shipwrecked sailors at the Pole when winter ends and an escape route to the south opens up.

Loiseau, by now well away, stood up with a glass of champagne in his hand, crying, ‘I drink to our deliverance!’ Everyone rose to their feet and applauded him. Even the two nuns, urged by the ladies, agreed to take the tiniest sip of the sparkling wine never tasted by them before. They concluded it was just like fizzy lemonade, only more delicate of course. Loiseau caught the general mood when he said, ‘Pity there isn’t a piano. We could have had a bit of a prance.’

Cornudet throughout had not uttered a single word nor made a single gesture. On the contrary, he appeared plunged in serious thought, tugging angrily at his beard from time to time as if to lengthen it still further. Finally, around midnight just as the party was breaking up, Loiseau staggered over to him, dug him in the ribs and slurred: ‘Barrel of laughs you are, tonight, I must say. S’madder with you?’

Cornudet simply raised his head sharply, threw a fierce glare round the entire company and said, ‘The way you’ve all behaved tonight’s disgraceful!’

He got up and, reaching the door, added: ‘Absolutely disgraceful!’

At first this cast something of a pall. Loiseau, a little stunned, stood gawping and then, recovering his wits, he doubled up with laughter.

‘Sour grapes, my friend! That’s what it is … sour grapes!’

Since no one got the joke he explained the ‘secrets of the corridor’. At this, there was a great burst of renewed mirth. The ladies were in hysterics. The Comte and Madame Carré-Lamadon laughed till they cried. They could not believe it.

‘You mean … ? You’re sure.…? He wanted to …?’

‘I tell you I saw him!’

‘And she wouldn’t …’

‘Because the Prussian was in the next room.’

‘Never!’

‘I swear to God.’

The Comte was choking with laughter. The industrialist was holding his sides. Loiseau went on: ‘So you see why he doesn’t see the funny side of it tonight! Not funny at all, oh no!’