applied."

"Yes, aunt, I have some ideas; yes, I have some ideas about liquid
white, and by summoning together all my recollections--"

"Is it true, Captain, that it causes rheumatism?"

"No, not at all; have a couple of logs put on the fire and give me the
stuff."

So saying, I turned up my sleeves and poured some of the "Milk of
Beauty" into a little onyx bowl that was at hand, then I dipped a little
sponge into it, and approached my Aunt Venus with a smile.

"You are sure that it has no effect on the skin--no, I really dare not."
As she said this she looked as prim as a vestal. "It is the first time,
do you know, that I ever used this liquid white, ah! ah! ah! What a baby
I am! I am all in a shiver."

"But, my dear, you are foolish," exclaimed the lady of the screen,
breaking into a laugh; "when one acts one must submit to the exigencies
of the footlights."

"You hear, aunt? Come, give me your arm."

She held out her full, round arm, on the surface of which was spread
that light and charming down, symbol of maturity. I applied the wet
sponge.

"Oh! oh! oh!" exclaimed the Baroness; "it is like ice, a regular
shower-bath, and you want to put that all over me?"

Just then there was a knock at the door which led out of the Baron's
dressing-room, and instinctively I turned toward it.

"Who's there? Oh! you are letting it splutter all over me!" exclaimed
the Baroness. "You can't come in; what is it?"

"What is the matter, aunt?"

"You can't come in," exclaimed some one behind the screen; "my cuirass
has split. Marie, Rosine, a needle and thread, the gum."

"Oh! there is a stream all down my back, your horrid white is running
down," said the Baroness, in a rage.

"I will wipe it. I am really very sorry."

"Can you get your hand down my back, do you think?"

"Why not, aunt?"

"Why not, why not! Because where there is room for a drop of water,
there is not room for the hand of a lancer."

Another knock, this time at the door opening from the passage.

"What is it now?"

"The torches have come, Madame," said a footman. "Will you have them
lighted?"

"Ah! the torches of Mesdemoiselles de N., who are dressing in the
boudoir. No, certainly not, do not light them, they are not wanted till
the second tableau."

"Do not stir, aunt, I beg of you. Mesdemoiselles de N. appears too,
then?"

"Yes, with their mamma; they represent 'The Lights of Faith driving out
Unbelief,' thus they naturally require torc