hey either praised or criticised as they
passed before their eyes.

"Oh! there is Madame Villegry," cried Jacqueline; "how handsome she is!
I should like one of these days to be that kind of beauty, so tall and
slender. Her waist measure is only twenty-one and two thirds inches. The
woman who makes her corsets and my mamma's told us so. She brought us
one of her corsets to look at, a love of a corset, in brocatelle, all
over many-colored flowers. That material is much more 'distingue' than
the old satin--"

"But what a queer idea it is to waste all that upon a thing that nobody
will ever look at," said Dolly, her round eyes opening wider than
before.

"Oh! it is just to please herself, I suppose. I understand that!
Besides, nothing is too good for such a figure. But what I admire most
is her extraordinary hair."

"Which changes its color now and then," observed the sharpest of the
three Wermant sisters. "Extraordinary is just the word for it.
At present it is dark red. Henna did that, I suppose. Raoul--our
brother--when he was in Africa saw Arab women who used henna. They tied
their heads up in a sort of poultice made of little leaves, something
like tea-leaves. In twenty-four hours the hair will be dyed red, and
will stay red for a year or more. You can try it if you like. I think it
is disgusting."

"Oh! look, there is Madame de Sternay. I recognized her by her perfume
before I had even seen her. What delightful things good perfumes are!"

"What is it? Is it heliotrope or jessamine?" asked Yvonne d'Etaples,
sniffing in the air.

"No--it is only orris-root--nothing but orris-root; but she puts it
everywhere about her--in the hem of her petticoat, in the lining of her
dress. She lives, one might say, in the middle of a sachet. The thing
that will please me most when I am married will be to have no limit
to my perfumes. Till then I have to satisfy myself with very little,"
sighed Jacqueline, drawing a little bunch of violets from the loose
folds of her blouse, and inhaling their fragrance with delight.

"'Tiens'! here comes somebody who has to be contented with much less,"
said Yvonne, as a young girl joined their circle. She was small,
awkward, timid, and badly dressed. On seeing her Colette whispered "Oh!
that tiresome Giselle. We sha'n't be able to talk another word."

Jacqueline kissed Giselle de Monredon. They were distant cousins, though
they saw each other very seldom. Giselle was an orphan, having lost