gainst the rain. It was Pierre who
opened the door; but at sight of her he seemed somewhat embarrassed.

"Is Madame Deberle at home?"

"Yes, madame; but I don't know whether--"

Helene, in the character of a family friend, was pushing past him
towards the drawing-room; but he took the liberty of stopping her.

"Wait, madame; I'll go and see."

He slipped into the room, opening the door as little as he could; and
immediately afterwards Juliette could be heard speaking in a tone of
irritation. "What! you've allowed some one to come in? Why, I forbade
it peremptorily. It's incredible!! I can't be left quiet for an
instant!"

Helene, however, pushed open the door, strong in her resolve to do
that which she imagined to be her duty.

"Oh, it's you!" said Juliette, as she perceived her. "I didn't catch
who it was!"

The look of annoyance did not fade from her face, however, and it was
evident that the visit was ill-timed.

"Do I disturb you?" asked Helene.

"Not at all, not at all," answered the other. "You'll understand in a
moment. We have been getting up a surprise. We are rehearsing
_Caprice_[*] to play it on one of my Wednesdays. We had selected this
morning for rehearsal, thinking nobody would know of it. But you'll
stay now? You will have to keep silence about it, that's all."

[*] One of Alfred de Musset's plays.

Then, clapping her hands and addressing herself to Madame Berthier,
who was standing in the middle of the drawing-room, she began once
more, without paying any further attention to Helene: "Come, come; we
must get on. You don't give sufficient point to the sentence 'To make
a purse unknown to one's husband would in the eyes of most people seem
rather more than romantic.' Say that again."

Intensely surprised at finding her engaged in this way, Helene had sat
down. The chairs and tables had been pushed against the wall, the
carpet thus being left clear. Madame Berthier, a delicate blonde,
repeated her soliloquy, with her eyes fixed on the ceiling in her
effort to recall the words; while plump Madame de Guiraud, a beautiful
brunette, who had assumed the character of Madame de Lery, reclined in
an arm-chair awaiting her cue. The ladies, in their unpretentious
morning gowns, had doffed neither bonnets nor gloves. Seated in front
of them, her hair in disorder and a volume of Musset in her hand, was
Juliette, in a dressing-gown of white cashmere. Her face wore the
serious expression of a stage-mana