After this, she found fault on the score of propriety with the low dress of the lady in the powdered wig.
"Where is the harm," replied Bouvard, "when one possesses something beautiful?" And he added in a lower tone: "Just as you are yourself, I'm sure."
(The notary turned his back on them, and studied the branches of the Croixmare family.)
She made no response but began to play with her long gold chain. Her bosom swelled out the black taffeta of her corsage, and, with her eyelashes slightly drawn together, she lowered her chin like a turtle-dove bridling up; then, with an ingenuous air:
"What is this lady's name?"
"It is unknown; she was one of the Regent's mistresses, you know; he who played so many pranks."
"I believe you; the memoirs of the time——"
And the notary, without giving her time to finish the sentence, deplored this example of a prince carried away by his passions.
"But you are all like that!"
The two gentlemen protested, and then followed a dialogue on women and on love. Marescot declared that there were many happy unions; sometimes even, without suspecting it, we have close beside us what we require for our happiness.