y, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty
of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses,
especially if she has lived chastely.

Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman
is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of
what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin
shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a
pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two
beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on,
indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short
sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms
with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered
cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she
subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but,
with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden
ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration?

As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a
deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever,
which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes
were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air,
she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her.

Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of
Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter
amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made
herself the mistress of the bewitched artist.

"How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth.

There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such
subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain
immaculate.

"Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty.
"Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an
angel to perdition."

"But tell me how she set to work."

"There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said
Lisbeth ironically.

The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult
Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable
of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her
bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate
the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is