Adrienne's bloom had actually returned, with this unexpected gleam of hope, for the affair of disposing of me had always appeared awful in her imagination. She owned the truth frankly, and said that she had not made herself acquainted with the prices of such things, except as she had understood what affluent ladies paid for them.
"Ah! that is a different matter," said Desiree, coldly. "These ladies pay far more than a thing is worth. Now you paid ten francs for the handkerchief itself."
"Twenty-eight," answered Adrienne, trembling.
"Twenty-eight! mademoiselle, they deceived you shamefully. Ten would have been dear in the present absence of strangers from Paris. No, call THAT ten. This lace would probably bring a napoleon—yes, I think it might bring a napoleon."
Adrienne's heart sunk within her. She had supposed it to be worth at least five times as much.
"That makes thirty francs," continued Desiree coldly; "and now for the work. You must have been a fortnight doing all this pretty work."
"Two months, madame," said Adrienne, faintly.
"Two months! Ah! you are not accustomed to this sort of work and are not adroit, perhaps."
"I worked only in the mornings and late at night; but still think I worked full hours."
"Yes, you worked when sleepy. Call it a month, then. Thirty days at ten sous a day make fifteen francs. Ten for the handkerchief, twenty for the lace, and fifteen for the work, make forty-five francs—parole d'honneur, it does come to a pretty price for a handkerchief. Si, we must ask forty-five francs for it, and then we can always abate the five francs, and take two napoleons."