"Oh, he had a great deal of trouble. Mamma could not decide for
herself."

The Countess said nothing, but felt a little confused.

The doors being closed to visitors, no one called that evening. Madame
de Guilleroy passed the whole of the following day in different shops,
choosing or ordering what she needed. She had loved, from her youth,
almost from her infancy, those long sittings before the mirrors of
the great shops. From the moment of entering one, she took delight in
thinking of all the details of that minute rehearsal in the green-room
of Parisian life. She adored the rustle of the dresses worn by the
salesgirls, who hastened forward to meet her, all smiles, with their
offers, their queries; and Madame the dressmaker, the milliner, or
corset-maker, was to her a person of consequence, whom she treated as an
artist when she expressed an opinion in asking advice. She enjoyed
even more to feel herself in the skilful hands of the young girls who
undressed her and dressed her again, causing her to turn gently around
before her own gracious reflection. The little shiver that the touch of
their fingers produced on her skin, her neck, or in her hair, was one of
the best and sweetest little pleasures that belonged to her life of an
elegant woman.

This day, however, she passed before those candid mirrors, without
her veil or hat, feeling a certain anxiety. Her first visit, at
the milliner's, reassured her. The three hats which she chose were
wonderfully becoming; she could not doubt it, and when the milliner
said, with an air of conviction, "Oh, Madame la Comtesse, blondes should
never leave off mourning" she went away much pleased, and entered other
shops with a heart full of confidence.

Then she found at home a note from the Duchess, who had come to see
her, saying that she would return in the evening; then she wrote some
letters; then she fell into dreamy reverie for some time, surprised
that this simple change of place had caused to recede into a past that
already seemed far away the great misfortune that had overwhelmed her.
She could not even convince herself that her return from Roncieres dated
only from the day before, so much was the condition of her soul modified
since her return to Paris, as if that little change had healed her
wounds.

Bertin, arriving at dinner-time, exclaimed on seeing her:

"You are dazzling this evening!"

And this exclamation sent a warm wave of happiness through her being.