as an interesting
prophecy. He discovered nothing either of bad or good augury. Madame
Nanteuil, plump, fresh-complexioned, cool-skinned, was not unattractive
with the sensuous fullness of her contours. But her daughter did not in
the least resemble her.

Seeing her so collected and serene, he said to her:

"You yourself are not of a nervous temperament?"

"I have never been nervous. My daughter does not take after me. She is
the living image of her father. He was delicate, although his health was
not bad. He died of a fall from his horse. You'll take a cup of tea,
won't you, Monsieur de Ligny?"

Felicie entered the room. Her hair was outspread upon her shoulders; she
was wrapped in a white woollen dressing-gown, held very loosely at the
waist by a heavy embroidered girdle, and she shuffled along in red
slippers; she looked a mere child. The friend of the house, Tony Meyer,
the picture dealer, was wont when he saw her in this garment, which was
a trifle monkish in appearance, to call her Brother Ange de Charolais,
because he had discovered in her a resemblance to a portrait by Nattier
which represented Mademoiselle de Charolais in the Franciscan habit.
Before this little girl, Robert was surprised and silent.

"It's kind of you," she said, "to have come to inquire after me. I am
better, thank you."

"She works very hard; she works too hard," said Madame Nanteuil. "Her
part in _La Grille_ is tiring her."

"Oh no, mother."

They spoke of the theatre, and the conversation languished.

During a moment's silence, Madame Nanteuil asked Monsieur de Ligny if he
were still collecting old fashion-prints.

Felicie and Robert looked at her without understanding. They had told
her not long before some fiction about engraved fashion-plates, to
explain the meetings which they had not been able to conceal. But they
had quite forgotten the fact. Since then, a piece of the moon, as an old
author has said, had fallen into their love; Madame Nanteuil alone, in
her profound respect for fiction, remembered it.

"My daughter told me you had a great number of those old engravings and
that she used to find ideas for her costumes in them."

"Quite so, madame, quite so."

"Come here, Monsieur de Ligny," said Felicie. "I want to show you a
design for a costume for the part of Cecile de Rochemaure."

And she carried him off to her room.

It was a small room hung with flowered paper; the furniture consisted of
a wardrobe with a mi