Not knowing how to arrange her disordered toilet without being seen by David, and feeling that any attempt at arrangement was a tacit avowal of her embarrassment, however excusable, the young woman found a way out of the complication.
The servant wore a large red woollen shawl. Madame Bastien took it and silently wrapped it around herself, then, as many of the women of the country do, she put it over her head and crossed it, so that her floating hair was half hidden and she was enveloped to her waist in the long folds of the shawl.
This was done with so much quickness that David did not perceive the metamorphosis in Marie's costume until she said to her servant, with affectionate familiarity:
"My good Marguerite, forgive me for taking your shawl, but to-night is freezing, and I am cold."
If David had found the young woman adorably beautiful and attractive with dishevelled hair and all in white, he beheld a still more captivating beauty in her as she stood wrapped in this mantle of scarlet; nothing could have more enhanced the soft brilliancy of her large blue eyes, the lovely colour of her brown hair, and the delicate rose of her complexion.
"Good night, M. David," said the young mother; "after having entered your room in despair, I leave it greatly encouraged, since you tell me that to-morrow will be a day of decisive experience for Frederick, and perhaps a day of happiness for us."
"Yes, madame, I have good hope, and if you will permit it, to-morrow morning, before seeing Frederick, I would like to meet you in the library."
"I will await you there, M. David, and with great impatience. God grant that our anticipations may not be mistaken. Good night again, M. David. Come, Marguerite."
Long after the young woman had left the chamber of David, he stood motionless in the same place, trembling with rapture, as he pictured to himself the enchanting loveliness of the face sheltered under the folds of the scarlet shawl.