Mademoiselle Victorine concluded with a violent shake of the brocade she was trimming.
"But did you learn this from good authority?" asked Esther, a slender, pale-faced girl.
"The very best. I heard Mrs. Hilson say so to some ladies whom she brought to introduce here; and you know Mr. Hilson transacts all business matters for Mademoiselle Melanie. Mrs. Hilson told her friends that Mademoiselle Melanie's establishment was a perfect mint and fairly coined money. When I heard this assertion I said to myself, 'How little people understand that without me Mademoiselle Melanie would never have founded an establishment that was compared to a mint—never!' Yet she gets all the credit."
"But you see"—began Esther.
Victorine interrupted her.
"What a chatterbox you are, Mademoiselle Esther! You will never get on with that work if you talk so much. Those festoons want spirit and grace; you must recommence them, or the dress will be a failure, I warn you! For whom is it? I have forgotten."
"It is Mrs. Gilmer's, and she expects to wear it at the grand ball to be given by the Marchioness de Fleury."
"She will be mistaken!" said Victorine. "I know that she will not be invited. The marchioness hates her; Mrs. Gilmer is the only rival whom Madame de Fleury takes the trouble to detest; and it makes me indignant to see a lady of her superlative fascinations annoyed by this little upstart American. One must admit that Mrs. Gilmer is very pretty; her figure scarcely needs help, and she is so vivacious, and has so much aplomb, so much dash, that the notice she attracts renders her alarmingly ambitious. Still, for her to dare to contrast herself with the French ambassadress is intolerable presumption, and I rejoice that she will get no invitation to the ball."
"How do you know that she will not be invited?" asked Esther.