“Good-day, madame,” said the man, blushing, yet cherishing his dignity.
The little French lady smiled sympathetically, her bright eyes darting comprehensive glances at Bess’s rough clothes and Jeffray’s grave and boyish face.
“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked, with quaint and courtly composure.
Jeffray, still red, and looking a little amused at his own novel responsibility, explained to madame how greatly they needed her help. It was no question of money; Jeffray desired to see the lady who was to be his wife dressed as charmingly as time and madame’s genius could contrive. Bess was standing in the middle of the room, looking very tall and stately despite her rough clothes and red stockings and her heavy shoes. She eyed the Frenchwoman a little haughtily, glanced at herself in the pier-glass, put back the stray strands of black hair over her ears, and smiled as her eyes met Jeffray’s.
“I am afraid we are taxing your ingenuity, madame,” he said, to the aristocratic little lady, with a grave smile.
The Frenchwoman, with her gray ringlets, gave a merry and meaning laugh, glided up to Bess, took off the gray cloak, her deft hands fluttering white and delicate about the girl’s body.
“Ah, no, a pleasure, monsieur. A Frenchwoman is never taken by surprise. Come. It can be done, ma foi, yes—it is easy, very easy.”
The pretty hats were whisked down from their brass pedestals by the little lady, and poised in succession upon Bess’s stately head. Strings, black, blue, and white, were tied deliciously under the round and pearly chin. Madame stood aside from time to time, striking little attitudes, glancing at Jeffray and clapping her hands.
“Ha, charming, is it not, monsieur? Look in the glass, mademoiselle; see, is it not beautiful? It is the face, the handsome face. Ah, that is quite ravishing. Does not monsieur like it?”
Yes, Jeffray admired the first, the second, the third, and so forth. He would have them all; yes, madame might set them aside as sold. Gowns and petticoats? Madame had a number ready. Of course, that was woman’s business. Would mademoiselle step into the back room? The gentleman would wait, yes, he could not enter such a sanctuary, and the little Frenchwoman rippled with smiles. The lady should come forth and show herself in the dresses. She would look ravishing; yes, monsieur should not be disappointed.