“Hair! What’s hair? Not but you’ve enough of it for three women, for that matter. But it will not do to go that way. It must be braided and pinned fast. Here is a bonnet, not so gay as mine, and I would trust you with that—only——”
“I wouldn’t wear it, dear Angelique. It’s lovely and kind for you to even think of offering. You must keep that for Pierre’s wife, and——”
“I should like to see her with it on! Huh! Indeed! Pouf!”
“There are hats enough of my own mother’s, and to wear one may be another piece of your ‘good luck.’ I shall wear this one. It is all blue like my frocks, and the little brown ribbon is the color of my shoes. Adrian would say that was ‘artistic,’ if he were here. Oh! Angelique! When I go to that far city, do you suppose I shall see Adrian? Do you?”
“Do you go there to break your uncle’s heart again? ’Tis not Adrian you will see, ever again, I hope. No. Indeed, no. See. This shawl. It goes so;” and Angelique adjusted the soft, rich fabric around her own shoulders, put a hat jauntily upon her head, and surveyed the effect with undisguised admiration, as reflected in the little mirror in the lid of the big trunk.
“Angelique! Angelique, take care! ‘Vanity is a disgrace to any woman!’ What if that misguided Pierre should see you now? What would he think of his——”
Hark! What was that? How dared old Joseph tramp through the house at such a pace, with such a noise? and the master still so weak. Why——
The indignant house-mistress disappeared with indignation blazing in her eyes.
Margot, also, stood still in the midst of her finery, listening and almost as angry as the other; till there came back to her another sound so familiar and reassuring that her fears were promptly banished, while one more anxiety was lifted from her heart.