"Madame, do you desire to appear to-night in a dress which far surpasses the one I have destroyed?"
The marchioness was sobbing so violently that she could only answer by a movement of the head.
"Do you desire to wear a dress which has been refused to others?—a dress which Mrs. Gilmer used every argument to induce me to finish for her, but in vain?—a dress which I would even have refused you, with whose wishes I have ever been ready to comply?"
"What—what dress? What do you mean?"
"I refer to the dress the design of which you so much admired this morning,—the dress which is to be sent to New Orleans for Madame la Motte."
"But that dress is not finished; it is hardly commenced; only the embroidery is completed. Mademoiselle Victorine told me it could not be done under three days."
"It shall be finished for you, if you so please, before it is time for you to dress for this evening's assembly."
"But that cannot be; it is not possible; it is four o'clock now; it would be a miracle!"
"Not quite," returned Madeleine, quietly. "In past days I was said to have the fingers of a fairy, and you shall admit that magical power remains to me. I repeat, the dress shall be completed, if you desire it, to-night."
"But you have sent the design to Madame la Motte, who has approved of it, and, I hear, you are bound not to furnish a duplicate to any one."