She looked at me a long time, searching me body and soul, and repeated:
"Oh! if you would! What a success!"
I offered a heap of objections, my lack of fine linen, of costumes, of jewels. The old woman reassured me.
"Oh! if that's all," said she, "you need not worry, because in my house, you understand, natural beauty is the chief adornment."
"Yes, yes, I know, but still...."
"I assure you that you need not worry," she insisted, with benevolence. "Listen, sign a contract with me for three months, and I will give you an outfit of the best, such as no soubrette of the Théâtre-Français ever had. My word for it!"
I asked time to reflect.
"Well, all right! reflect," counseled this dealer in human flesh. "Let me give you my address, at any rate. When your heart speaks,—well, you will have only to come. Oh! I am perfectly confident. And to-morrow I am going to announce you to the president of the republic."
We had finished drinking. The old woman settled for the two glasses, and took from a little black pocket-book a card, which she slyly slipped into my hand. When she had gone, I looked at the card, and I read:
MADAME REBECCA RANVET
Millinery