two kings of ready wit. No supper, no dinner,
was possible without them.

Seraphine Sinet, _dite_ Carabine, as the mistress _en titre_ of the
Amphitryon, was one of the first to arrive; and the brilliant lighting
showed off her shoulders, unrivaled in Paris, her throat, as round as if
turned in a lathe, without a crease, her saucy face, and dress of satin
brocade in two shades of blue, trimmed with Honiton lace enough to have
fed a whole village for a month.

Pretty Jenny Cadine, not acting that evening, came in a dress of
incredible splendor; her portrait is too well known to need any
description. A party is always a Longchamps of evening dress for these
ladies, each anxious to win the prize for her millionaire by thus
announcing to her rivals:

"This is the price I am worth!"

A third woman, evidently at the initial stage of her career, gazed,
almost shamefaced, at the luxury of her two established and wealthy
companions. Simply dressed in white cashmere trimmed with blue, her head
had been dressed with real flowers by a coiffeur of the old-fashioned
school, whose awkward hands had unconsciously given the charm of
ineptitude to her fair hair. Still unaccustomed to any finery, she
showed the timidity--to use a hackneyed phrase--inseparable from a first
appearance. She had come from Valognes to find in Paris some use for
her distracting youthfulness, her innocence that might have stirred the
senses of a dying man, and her beauty, worthy to hold its own with any
that Normandy has ever supplied to the theatres of the capital. The
lines of that unblemished face were the ideal of angelic purity. Her
milk-white skin reflected the light like a mirror. The delicate pink
in her cheeks might have been laid on with a brush. She was called
Cydalise, and, as will be seen, she was an important pawn in the game
played by Ma'ame Nourrisson to defeat Madame Marneffe.

"Your arm is not a match for your name, my child," said Jenny Cadine, to
whom Carabine had introduced this masterpiece of sixteen, having brought
her with her.

And, in fact, Cydalise displayed to public admiration a fine pair of
arms, smooth and satiny, but red with healthy young blood.

"What do you want for her?" said Jenny Cadine, in an undertone to
Carabine.

"A fortune."

"What are you going to do with her?"

"Well--Madame Combabus!"

"And what are you to get for such a job?"

"Guess."

"A service of plate?"

"I have three."

"Diamonds?"

"I