"You can let him read them all except that work."
I shot a furtive glance at the work, and determined that on the contrary it should be the very one I would read.
I waited some days after my brother-in-law's departure, then I set myself to find the famous red books he had forbidden me to read.
But, although I turned all the books upside down, I could not lay hands on it, and I had to renounce the search.
Suddenly the thought that I had to be the cavalier of a young lady of twenty-two or twenty-four made me look through my wardrobe. Nearly all my coats had patched elbows, and most of my trousers had darned knees.
The only presentable suit I had was the one I had worn at my first communion: nankeen breeches, a white piqué waistcoat, a light blue coat with gilt buttons. Luckily everything had been made two inches too long, so that now everything was but one inch too short.
There was a big chest in the loft which contained coats and vests and breeches belonging to my grandfather, and coats and breeches belonging to my father: all in very good condition.
These clothes were destined by my mother to form my wardrobe as I grew up, and they were protected against vermin by bottles of vétyver and sachets of camphor.
I had never troubled over my toilette, and consequently never taken it into my head to pay a visit to this chest.
But, promoted by the abbé, who looked upon me as a dancer whom he need not trouble about, to the dignity of squire to his niece, a new idea entered my head.