"You are very much thinner, poor little thing, so that none of them will fit you; besides, it will be a long while yet before you can go out. What you want is a dressing-gown, and I will have one made for you, if you will promise me to wear it."
"When you come, I will," answered Jeannette, who knew well such a dress did not suit her position, and that her parents would not like it.
"No, I wish you to wear what I will send, and not only when I am here, but every day; do you understand, child? I wish it."
"O godmother!" said Jeannette, "I beg you will not insist upon it; such a dress is very well at the château, but here I cannot dress differently from my mother."
"I do not wish to transform you into a princess," replied mademoiselle; "but neither do I like to see you dressed, as you are, in serge. I have my own reasons for it."
Jeannette bowed her head, although at heart she was very much dissatisfied. Pretty Solange, who was silently working away in her corner by the window, gave her an encouraging glance, to keep her firm in her good resolution; but for ten years Jeannette had given in to all her godmother's whims and caprices, and dared not answer.
Two days afterwards, a large bandbox, directed to Jeannette, was brought to Muiceron. She was still in bed, and was quite curious until it was opened; and there was the promised dress, made of beautiful blue cashmere, so fine and soft it looked like silk. As to how it was made, I really cannot describe it; but it is enough to know that mademoiselle herself could have worn it without impropriety, so that it can easily be understood it was not suitable for Jeanne Ragaud.
"Isn't it beautiful?" exclaimed Jeannette, admiring the dress, fit for a marchioness. "But I will never wear it; do you think I should, Solange?"
"No, indeed," said Solange. "Don't do it for the world, Jeannette; it would be very wrong for you to wear it, and the neighbors would laugh at you."