Fifi stood, with a brightly smiling face, at the head of the stairs, directing the parcels to be carried into her own room. Louis, after speaking to her, ventured to say:
“The cost of your purchases must be very great.”
“Yes,” answered Fifi, merrily, “but when one is about to make a grand marriage, such as I am, one should have good clothes.”
Louis Bourcet, thus openly tickled under the fifth rib, smiled rather anxiously, and replied:
“But one should be prudent, Mademoiselle. An extravagant wife would give me a great deal of pain.”
“Ah, a woman happy enough to be married to you could not give you a moment’s pain,” cried Fifi tenderly.
Louis started and blushed deeply,—this open lovemaking was a new thing, and very embarrassing,—but it is difficult to tell the lady in the case that she is too demonstrative.
Fifi, with a truly impish intelligence, saw at a glance the misery she could inflict upon poor Louis by her demonstrations of affection, and the discovery filled her with unholy joy, particularly as Madame Bourcet, sitting in the snuff-colored drawing-room, was within hearing through the open door.
“Only wait,” cried Fifi, as she skipped into her own room; “only wait until you see me in these things I bought to-day, and you will be as much in love with me as I am with you!”
Louis, blushing redder than any beet that ever grew, entered the snuff-colored drawing-room and closed the door after him. Madame Bourcet’s countenance showed that she had heard every word.