" And behind her, just on the edge of the shadow—his tall person dominating the satiated guests and the disordered table—stood Baptiste, looking pale and grave, in the disdainful attitude of a lackey who has feasted his masters. He alone, in the atmosphere heavy with drunkenness, beneath the vivid light, now turning to a yellowish hue, of the chandelier, remained faultless, with his silver chain around his neck, his cold eyes in which the sight of the women's bare shoulders did not even kindle a spark, and his air of an eunuch waiting on some Parisians in the time of their decline and maintaining his dignity. "

― Émile Zola , La Curée