One evening, after receiving a visit from one of her friends, or rather acquaintances, at the convent, Valentine said to her aunt:
"Mademoiselle de Vertmonteil spoke to me this morning of a girl whom her sister has seen at Milan. This girl wishes to find a place in Paris. She is said to be clever at millinery work and dressmaking; in fact, Mademoiselle de Vertmonteil recommended her to me. My maid is a fool, who does not know how to dress my hair, and I am tempted to discharge her and take this Italian in her place. What do you think about it, aunt?"
Madame de Ravenelle, who had listened as to something that was utterly indifferent to her, replied:
"You will do well to do whatever is most agreeable to you, my dear."
It was a fortnight after this conversation that Miretta appeared at the Hôtel de Mongarcin, escorted by Cédrille, and still greatly excited by the risks she had run in front of Master Hugonnet's house.
Valentine was impatiently awaiting the arrival of the girl of whom she had heard such marvellous things. She was in an immense salon, where her aunt persisted in having a fire, although the weather was no longer cold, when the young traveller was announced. Valentine uttered a joyful exclamation and said:
"Bring her to speak to me; I wish to see her at once!—Will you allow her to come to this salon, aunt?"
"It is entirely indifferent to me, niece. However, if any visitor should come, I presume that this girl will know that it is her duty to withdraw."
Miretta soon made her appearance before the two ladies; she walked into the salon with an assured step; there was embarrassment, but neither awkwardness nor stupidity in her bearing. The reverence that she made was not without a certain charm. Add to this the beauty of her face, her fresh complexion, her youth, and her piquant costume, and you will understand Valentine's exclamation:
"Ah! why, the child is very pretty!—Come nearer, come nearer! Your name is Miretta?"