alone, disrobed, hair flying, studying my
shoulders, deploring their meagreness--a true picture of despair! Mamma
took me in her arms. 'My angel, my poor dear, what is the matter?' I
answered only by sobbing. 'My child, tell me all.' Mamma was very
anxious, but I could not speak; tears choked my voice. 'My dearest, do
you wish to kill me?' So to reassure mamma I managed to say between my
sobs: 'I am too thin, mamma; last night Gontran thought me too thin!' At
that mamma began to laugh heartily; but as she was good-humored that
evening, after laughing she explained to me that she, at seventeen, had
been much thinner than I, and she promised me in the most solemn manner
that I should grow stouter. Mamma spoke true; I have fattened up. Will
you have the goodness, sir, to declare to our aunt that the salt-cellars
have entirely disappeared, and that you cannot have against me, in that
respect, any legitimate cause of complaint?"

"I will declare so very willingly; but you will permit me to add--"

"I will permit you no such thing. I have the floor, let me speak; but
you will soon have a chance to justify yourself. I intend to put you
through a little cross-questioning."

"I'll wait, then--"

"Yes, do. So last spring I began my first campaign. I do not know, Aunt
Louise, what the customs were in your time, but I know that to-day, at
the present time, the condition of young girls is one of extreme
severity. We are kept confined, closely confined, till eighteen, for
mamma was very indulgent in bringing me out when I was only seventeen;
but mamma is goodness itself, and then she isn't coquettish for a
sou--she didn't mind admitting that she had a marriageable daughter. All
mothers are not like that, and I know some who are glad to put off the
public and official exhibition of their poor children so as to gain a
year. At the same time that they race at Longchamps and Chantilly the
great fillies of the year, they take from their boxes the great
heiresses of the year who are ripe for matrimony, and in a series of
white balls given for that purpose, between Easter Sunday and the Grand
Prix, they are made to take little trial gallops before connoisseurs.
They have to work rapidly and find a buyer before the Grand Prix; for
after that all is up, the young girls are packed back to their
governesses, dancing-masters, and literary professors. The campaign is
over. That is all for the year. They are not seen again, the poor
things, ti