, in an icy tone,--

"Madame, do you desire to appear to-night in a dress which far surpasses
the one I have destroyed?"

The marchioness was sobbing so violently that she could only answer by a
movement of the head.

"Do you desire to wear a dress which has been refused to others?--a
dress which Mrs. Gilmer used every argument to induce me to finish for
her, but in vain?--a dress which I would even have refused _you_, with
whose wishes I have ever been ready to comply?"

"What--what dress? What do you mean?"

"I refer to the dress the design of which you so much admired this
morning,--the dress which is to be sent to New Orleans for Madame la
Motte."

"But that dress is not finished; it is hardly commenced; only the
embroidery is completed. Mademoiselle Victorine told me it could not be
done under three days."

"It shall be finished for _you_, if you so please, before it is time for
you to dress for this evening's assembly."

"But that cannot be; it is not possible; it is four o'clock now; it
would be a miracle!"

"Not quite," returned Madeleine, quietly. "In past days I was said to
have the fingers of a fairy, and you shall admit that magical power
remains to me. I repeat, the dress shall be completed, if you desire it,
to-night."

"But you have sent the design to Madame la Motte, who has approved of
it, and, I hear, you are bound not to furnish a duplicate to any one."

"True, I must run the risk of losing the confidence of a patron for the
first time in my life. I will tell Madame la Motte the truth, and
furnish her with another equally elaborate dress,--not a very easy
matter, as it must leave here in three days by express, and a new design
must not only be planned, but executed, within that time. I may lose
Madame de la Motte's patronage,--her esteem; but that will be the price
I pay for the favor I seek at your hands."

"The favor!" repeated the marchioness, abstractedly.

In her bewilderment and grief caused by the destruction of the dress,
she had forgotten, for the moment, all that had just taken place.

Madeleine pointed to the note which the marchioness had commenced, and
said,--

"The invitation for Mrs. Gilmer."

"Ah! Mrs. Gilmer!" cried Madame de Fleury, as though she had been stung
by the name.

"As you remarked, it is four o'clock," continued Madeleine; "the dress
ought to be at your house by half past nine; there is scarcely time for
any one who only _pretends_ to be a fairy to a