"Did the ancient nymphs know any better?" cried Mademoiselle de Richeval, who sat a couple of places further on. "Do you not believe that if they lived to-day they would patronise our fashions?"
"Know any better? Do you think they were unconscious that to carry a crook is becoming to the arm? No, they were as careful of their crooks as we of our rouges. What is your judgment, Monsieur de Répentigny?"
"It is a Judgment of Paris you require," he exclaimed, "and I have not been there yet."
Cyrène de la Roche Vernay touched her lovely hand quickly upon the table and turned to him with a delighted little laugh.
"As for me, I shall be glad if these tiresome fine clothes are ever to be banished," she murmured, twisting her wine-glass.
"Baroness, you have been reading the wicked Rousseau and his 'Social Contract,'" de Blair, who sat next to her, bantered.
"It surely ought to cost something to be noble," pronounced the Canoness, in whose convent every candidate was required to prove sixteen quarterings of arms, and received the title of countess.
"Permit me to agree with the Church," laughed Mademoiselle de Richeval; "we women ought to be as elaborate as possible, so as to frighten away all those who are not rich enough to marry."
"I believe I could say, Miss," asserted d'Estaing, "that nevertheless you yourself have brought to Fontainebleau at least twelve short dresses and five pairs of low-heeled shoes."
"More than that—a straw hat and aprons," Cyrène added mischievously, casting a smile also at Germain.