“In my day,” said she, in a severe tone, “young ladies did not fall in love with their fiancés, much less proclaim the fact.”
Louis shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“We must make allowances, Aunt, for Mademoiselle Chiaramonti’s early training—and we must not forget that her grandfather was cousin to His Holiness, and Mademoiselle has a hundred thousand francs of her own.” Louis mentally added, “and a hundred thousand francs is not picked up with every girl.”
“She will not have a hundred thousand francs if she goes shopping like this very often,” stiffly replied Madame Bourcet. “I should not be surprised if she had squandered all of a thousand francs in one day.”
Just then the door opened, and a tremendous hat, with eleven large feathers on it, and much else besides, appeared. Fifi’s delicate bright face, now as solemn as a judge’s, was seen under this huge creation. The red and green striped satin cloak, with the large lace and fur-trimmed sleeves, concealed some of the yellow brocade with the big purple flowers, but some yards of it were visible, trailing on the floor. The bird of paradise fan and a muff the size of a barrel completed Fifi’s costume.
Madame Bourcet gave a faint scream and Louis almost jumped out of his chair at the show. Fifi, parading solemnly up and down, surveying herself complacently, remarked:
“This is the costume I shall wear when we pay our visit of ceremony to the Holy Father, upon my marriage.”
A dead pause followed. Both Madame Bourcet and Louis were too stunned to speak. Fifi, seeing to what a state they were reduced, returned to her room, and being an expert in quick changes of costume, reappeared in a few minutes wearing one of the violently sensational negligées, in which she looked like a living rainbow.
Neither Madame Bourcet nor Louis knew what to say at this catastrophe, and therefore said nothing. But Fifi was voluble enough for both. She harangued on the beauty of the costumes, and their extraordinary cheapness, without mentioning the price, and claimed to have a gem of a gown to exhibit, which would eclipse anything she had yet shown.
When she went to put this marvelous creation on, Madame Bourcet recovered speech enough to say: