At this she turned to her friend with a highly vexed air.
“Am I truly ugly?” she asked.
“Nay, my heart,” said M—M—, bursting with laughter; “‘tis quite the other way. Thou art very pretty.” With these words, she took her on her knee and embraced her tenderly.
“Thy corset is too tight, mademoiselle; ‘tis not possible to have so small a waist as thine.”
“Monsieur is mistaken. Thou canst put thy hand there and see for thyself.”
“I do not believe it.”
M—M—then held her close to the grille and bade me assure myself on the point. At the same moment she turned up her dress.
“Thou wast right,” said I, “and I owe thee an apology.” But in my heart I cursed the chemise and the grille.
“‘Tis my opinion,” quoth I to M—M—, “that here we have a little lad.”
Without awaiting a reply, I laboured so well that I satisfied myself, by touch, as to her sex, and I could see that the little one and her governess were pleased that my mind was at rest on the subject.