e woman inquired if the
handkerchief was ordered. Adrienne blushed, but shaking off the
transient feeling of shame, she stated that it was for sale.

"I know a lady who would buy this--a marchande de mode, a friend of
mine, who gives the highest prices that are ever paid for such
articles--for to tell you the truth certain Russian princesses employ
her in all these little matters. Have you thought of your price,
mademoiselle?"

Adrienne's bloom had actually returned, with this unexpected gleam of
hope, for the affair of disposing of me had always appeared awful in
her imagination. She owned the truth frankly, and said that she had not
made herself acquainted with the prices of such things, except as she
had understood what affluent ladies paid for them.

"Ah! that is a different matter," said Desiree, coldly. "These ladies
pay far more than a thing is worth. Now you paid ten francs for the
handkerchief itself."

"Twenty-eight," answered Adrienne, trembling.

"Twenty-eight! mademoiselle, they deceived you shamefully. Ten would
have been dear in the present absence of strangers from Paris. No, call
THAT ten. This lace would probably bring a napoleon--yes, I think it
might bring a napoleon."

Adrienne's heart sunk within her. She had supposed it to be worth at
least five times as much.

"That makes thirty francs," continued Desiree coldly; "and now for the
work. You must have been a fortnight doing all this pretty work."

"Two months, madame," said Adrienne, faintly.

"Two months! Ah! you are not accustomed to this sort of work and are
not adroit, perhaps."

"I worked only in the mornings and late at night; but still think I
worked full hours."

"Yes, you worked when sleepy. Call it a month, then. Thirty days at ten
sous a day make fifteen francs. Ten for the handkerchief, twenty for
the lace, and fifteen for the work, make forty-five francs--parole
d'honneur, it does come to a pretty price for a handkerchief. Si, we
must ask forty-five francs for it, and then we can always abate the
five francs, and take two napoleons."

{parole d'honneur = word of honor, upon my word!}

Adrienne felt sick at heart. Want of nourishment had lessened her
energies, and here came a blow to all her golden visions that was near
overcoming her. She knew that handkerchiefs similar to this frequently
sold for twenty napoleons in the shops, but she did not know how much
the cupidity of trade extracted from the silly and vain in the