But one evening her husband returned home jubilant, holding a large envelope in his hand.
"Here is something for you," he said.
She tore open the cover sharply, and drew out a printed card bearing these words: "The Minister of Public Instruction and Mme. Georges Ramponneau request the honor of M. and Mme. Loisel's company at the palace of the Ministry on Monday evening, January 18th."
Instead of being delighted as her husband expected, she threw the invitation on the table with disgust, muttering, "What do you think I can do with that?"
"But, my dear, I thought you would be pleased. You never go anywhere, and this is such a rare opportunity. I had hard work to get it. Every one is wild to go; it is very select, and invitations to clerks are scarce. The whole official world will be there."
She looked at him with a scornful eye, as she said petulantly, "And what have I to put on my back?" He had not thought of that. He stammered, "Why, the dress you wear to the theatre; it certainly looks all right to me."
He stopped in despair, seeing his wife was crying. Two big tears rolled down from the corners of her eyes to the corners of her mouth.
"What's the matter? What's the matter?" he faltered.
With great effort she controlled herself, and replied coldly, while she dried her wet cheeks:
"Nothing, except that I have no dress, and for that reason, cannot go to the ball. Give your invitation to some fellow-clerk whose wife is better provided than I am."