hat he might almost believe himself the young girl's father; and
a new bond of tenderness was added to that which had always held him to
this household.

Her personal vanity, always alert, but disturbed since she had felt in
several ways, like almost invisible pin-pricks, the innumerable attacks
of advancing age, took on a new allurement. In order to become as
slender as Annette, she continued to drink nothing, and the real
slimness of her figure gave her the appearance of a young girl. When her
back was turned one could hardly distinguish her from Annette; but
her face showed the effect of this regime. The plump flesh began to be
wrinkled and took on a yellowish tint which rendered more dazzling by
contrast the superb freshness of the young girl's complexion. Then the
Countess began to make up her face with theatrical art, and, though in
broad daylight she produced an effect that was slightly artificial, in
the evening her complexion had that charmingly soft tint obtained by
women who know how to make up well.

The realization of her fading beauty, and the employment of artificial
aid to restore it, somewhat changed her habits. As much as possible,
she avoided comparison with her daughter in the full light of day, but
rather sought it by lamplight, which, if anything, showed herself to
greater advantage. When she was fatigued, pale, and felt that she looked
older than usual, she had convenient headaches by reason of which she
excused herself from going to balls and theaters; but on days when she
knew she looked well she triumphed again and played the elder sister
with the grave modesty of a little mother. In order always to wear gowns
like those of her daughter, she made Annette wear toilettes suitable
for a fully-grown young woman, a trifle too old for her; and Annette who
showed more and more plainly her joyous and laughing disposition, wore
them with sparkling vivacity that rendered her still more attractive.
She lent herself with all her heart to the coquettish arts of her
mother, acting with her, as if by instinct, graceful little domestic
scenes; she knew when to embrace her at the effective moment, how to
clasp her tenderly round the waist, and to show by a movement, a caress,
or some ingenious pose, how pretty both were and how much they resembled
each other.

From seeing the two so much together, and from continually comparing
them, Olivier Bertin sometimes actually confused them in his own mind.
Sometimes,