"See, sir," cried Mlle de Tricotrin, as he entered. "There is the gown I wear to-morrow. Is it not lovely?"
The Marquis looked at it critically. "Is that the handsomest one you have?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," she answered. "It is the loveliest one I ever had. I have kept it back on purpose for a time like this. I am so happy that I did."
"I am happy too, my child, for I want it."
"But it won't suit you, sir?"
"My child," said the Marquis, with Spartan severity, "this is no time for levity. We are on the brink of a desperate crisis. It is a moment of gravest peril, and that gown alone can save us." And then he explained to her the whole situation, and how he had resolved that Lady Kora should wear her most beautiful dress. Poor Mlle de Tricotrin! Like most pretty women, and many others, she was very fond of her pretty frocks. She had an exquisite taste in them, and had been preparing this present one for a triumph which should outdo all her previous successes. She and Penelophon had been thinking of little else for some days past, and her beautiful eyes filled with tears at her bitter disappointment.
"O sir," she said, "you are always asking sacrifices of me."
"But I ask none," he answered, "that I do not make myself. I shall lend the Count the very last suit of clothes which I had from Paris."