"Madame de la Sainte-Colombe need not play the great lady, because she is one."
"She! a great lady? Oh, lor'!"
"Yes—only see how she was dressed, in scarlet gown, and violet gloves like a bishop's; and, when she took off her bonnet, she had a diamond band round her head-dress of false, light hair, and diamond ear-drops as large as my thumb, and diamond rings on every finger! None of your tuppenny beauties would wear so many diamonds in the middle of the day."
"You are a pretty judge!"
"That is not all."
"Do you mean to say there's more?"
"She talked of nothing but dukes, and marquises, and counts, and very rich gentlemen, who visit at her house, and are her most intimate friends; and then, when she saw the summer house in the park, half-burnt by the Prussians, which our late master never rebuilt, she asked, 'What are those ruins there?' and I answered: 'Madame, it was in the time of the Allies that the pavilion was burnt.'—'Oh, my clear,' cried she; 'our allies, good, dear allies! they and the Restoration began my fortune!' So you see, Dupont, I said to myself directly: 'She was no doubt one of the noble women who fled abroad—'"
"Madame de la Sainte-Colombe!" cried the bailiff, laughing heartily. "Oh, my poor, poor wife!"
"Oh, it is all very well; but because you have been three years at Paris, don't think yourself a conjurer!"
"Catherine, let's drop it: you will make me say some folly, and there are certain things which dear, good creatures like you need never know."