“We are going to stay until to-morrow.”
“How lovely your hats always are!”
“Do you think so?”
“Fascinating. I like that style of dress ever so much.”
“It’s the latest—not quite low enough in the neck.”
“Why, yes. I must have some of that material; it’s very stylish.”
“Oh! it’s very simple; the dress cost only two hundred francs. But for the country, and for calls on one’s friends—I’ll give you my dressmaker’s address.”
Madame Destival allowed Madame de la Thomassinière to go upstairs first, continuing to lavish compliments upon her, and counterfeiting the most extravagant delight in order to conceal her secret annoyance; for the new arrival was genuinely pretty, her manners were charmingly vivacious, and Monsieur Dalville, whom Madame Destival was still expecting to see, had never met her. Monsieur Dalville, who was so quick to take fire, was very likely to make love to Madame de la Thomassinière, who was no less likely to listen to him. All this caused Madame Destival much secret anger; but she affected the greater amiability on that account; for in society one must know how to make believe, to speak otherwise than one thinks; that is the great secret of social success.
Madame de la Thomassinière entered the salon, where Monsieur Monin had remained; he was on the point of attempting the introduction of another pinch of snuff, but checked himself at sight of the young woman, stepped back, removed his hat, and although he had never seen her before, began his inevitable question:
“How’s your health?”