The General’s wife raised her eyes to Heaven in real or feigned astonishment. “Yourself!” she repeated four or five times, as if to make sure that she had heard aright. “Yourself! That is incomprehensible! You, the daughter of a man who possessed an income of five or six hundred thousand francs a year! Still I know that poor M. de Chalusse, though unquestionably a very worthy and excellent man, was peculiar in some of his ideas.” “Excuse me, madame. What I did, I did for my own pleasure.” But this assertion exceeded Madame de Fondege’s powers of comprehension. “Impossible!” she murmured, “impossible! But, my poor child, what did you do for fashions--for patterns?” The immense importance she attached to the matter was so manifest that Marguerite could not refrain from smiling. “I was probably not a very close follower of the fashions,” she replied. “The dress that I am wearing now----.” “Is very pretty, my child, and it becomes you extremely; that’s the truth. Only, to be frank, I must confess that this style is no longer worn--no--not at all. You must have your new dresses made in quite a different way.” “But I already have more dresses than I need, madame.” “What! black dresses?” “I seldom wear anything but black.” Evidently her hostess had never heard anything like this before. “Oh! all right,” said she, “these dresses will doubtless do very well for your first months of mourning--but afterward? Do you suppose, my poor dear, that I’m going to allow you to shut yourself up as you did at the Hotel de Chalusse? Good heavens! how dull it must have been for you, alone in that big house, without society or friends.” A tear fell from Marguerite’s long lashes. “I was very happy there, madame,” she murmured. “You think so; but you will change your mind. When one has never tasted real pleasure, one cannot realize how gloomy one’s life really is. No doubt, you were very unhappy alone with M. de Chalusse.” “Oh! madame----” “Tut! tut! my dear, I know what I am talking about. Wait until you have been introduced into society before you boast of the charms of solitude. Poor dear! I doubt if you have ever attended a ball in your whole life. No! I was sure of it, and you are twenty! Fortunately, I am here. I will take your mother’s place, and we will make up for lost time! Beautiful as you are, my child--for you are divinely beautiful--you will reign as a queen wherever you appear. Doesn’t that thought make that cold little heart of yours throb more quickly? Ah! fetes and music, wonderful toilettes and the flashing of diamonds, the admiration of gentlemen, the envy of rivals, the consciousness of one’s own beauty, are these delights not enough to fill any woman’s life? It is intoxication, perhaps, but an intoxication which is happiness.”