Mademoiselle Aurelie, who had not stirred from her seat beside the fire, rose to exchange greetings with Monsieur Letellier. He owned an extensive silk warehouse on the Boulevard des Capucines. Since his wife’s death he had been taking his younger daughter about everywhere, in search of a rich husband for her.
“Were you at the Vaudeville last night?” asked Pauline.
“Oh, it was simply marvellous!” repeated Juliette in parrot-fashion, as, standing before a mirror, she rearranged a rebellious curl.
“It is annoying to be so young; one can’t go to anything!” said Pauline, pouting like a spoiled child. “I went with papa to the theatre-door at midnight, to find out how the piece had taken.”
“Yes, and we tumbled upon Malignon,” said the father.
“He was extremely pleased with it.”
“Really!” exclaimed Juliette. “He was here a minute ago, and declared it vile. One never knows how to take him.”
“Have you had many visitors to-day?” asked Pauline, rushing off to another subject.
“Oh, several ladies; quite a crowd! The room was never once empty. I’m dead-beat—”
Here she abruptly broke off, remembering she had a formal introduction to make