indignant and horror-struck.

"Scarlet, Monsieur Paul? It was not scarlet! It was pink, and pale pink
to: and further subdued by black lace."

"Pink or scarlet, yellow or crimson, pea-green or sky-blue, it was all
one: these were all flaunting, giddy colours; and as to the lace I
talked of, _that_ was but a 'colifichet de plus.'" And he sighed over
my degeneracy. "He could not, he was sorry to say, be so particular on
this theme as he could wish: not possessing the exact names of these
'babioles,' he might run into small verbal errors which would not fail
to lay him open to my sarcasm, and excite my unhappily sudden and
passionate disposition. He would merely say, in general terms--and in
these general terms he knew he was correct--that my costume had of late
assumed 'des facons mondaines,' which it wounded him to see."

What "facons mondaines" he discovered in my present winter merino and
plain white collar, I own it puzzled me to guess: and when I asked him,
he said it was all made with too much attention to effect--and besides,
"had I not a bow of ribbon at my neck?"

"And if you condemn a bow of ribbon for a lady, Monsieur, you would
necessarily disapprove of a thing like this for a gentleman?"--holding
up my bright little chainlet of silk and gold. His sole reply was a
groan--I suppose over my levity.

After sitting some minutes in silence, and watching the progress of the
chain, at which I now wrought more assiduously than ever, he inquired:
"Whether what he had just said would have the effect of making me
entirely detest him?"

I hardly remember what answer I made, or how it came about; I don't
think I spoke at all, but I know we managed to bid good-night on
friendly terms: and, even after M. Paul had reached the door, he turned
back just to explain, "that he would not be understood to speak in
entire condemnation of the scarlet dress" ("Pink! pink!" I threw in);
"that he had no intention to deny it the merit of _looking_ rather
well" (the fact was, M. Emanuel's taste in colours decidedly leaned to
the brilliant); "only he wished to counsel me, whenever, I wore it, to
do so in the same spirit as if its material were 'bure,' and its hue
'gris de poussiere.'"

"And the flowers under my bonnet, Monsieur?" I asked. "They are very
little ones--?"

"Keep them little, then," said he. "Permit them not to become
full-blown."

"And the bow, Monsieur--the bit of ribbon?"

"Va pour le ruban!" was the propitious