Then, falling again to a languid tone, "Is there any one there?"
Jeanne smiled with malicious, averted face as she poured rose-water from a silver ewer into a Sévres bowl, and watched it rise, dimpling, to the flower-wreathed brim.
"There is M. le Vicomte as usual, Madame, and Mme la Comtesse de Maillé, who, learning that Madame was but now awakened, told me that she would wait whilst I inquired if Madame would see her."
"Good Heavens! what an hour to come," said the lady, with a peevish air.
"Madame la Comtesse seemed much moved. One would say something had occurred," said Jeanne.
The Marquise raised her head sharply.
"—And you stand chattering there? Just Heaven! The trial that it is to have an imbecile about one! The glass quickly, and the rouge, and the lace for my head. No, not that rouge,—the new sort that Isidore brought yesterday;—arrange these two curls,—now a little powder. Fool! what powder is this?"
"Madame's own," submitted Jeanne meekly.
The suffering lady raised herself and dealt the girl a sounding box on the ear.
"Idiot! did I not tell you I had tired of the perfume, and that in future the white lilac powder was the only one I would use? Did I not tell you?"