"You see, it isn't the cap that makes a girl pretty, but the way she puts it on and wears it; and so it is with the rest of her attire. The young person who caught my eye was some eighteen years of age; she was above middle height, slender, graceful, and willowy; for one can see that, at a glance, in the slightest motion of the body. There was nothing extraordinary about her features, but the face as a whole attracted one instantly. She was a blonde, with blue eyes and red lips; when she laughed, her mouth assumed a delicious expression, in which innocence and mischief were blended; her teeth were well arranged, and, while they could not be described as 'pearls set in rose leaves,' as it is customary to describe a pretty woman's mouth, they were beyond reproach; her hair, which was slightly tinged with gold, was arranged in little curls, in the style called, I believe, _à la neige_. In that respect, there was a notable difference between her and her two companions, whose hair was glued to their temples in little heartbreakers. What more can I say? There was an indefinable something about that girl which indicated that she had not always lived in the fields. There was a savor of Paris about her; for a woman who never leaves her village does not acquire the manners, the bearing, the ease, which contrast so sharply with the awkward accomplishments of the country. "My pretty blonde wore a striped lilac and white dress. She also wore a silk apron; but hers was of a grayish purple which harmonized perfectly with her gown. Her cap was very simple, but in the best taste, and perched so daintily on the top of her head that it seemed hardly to touch it. Her shoes were black, and the feet within them were small, narrow, and gracefully arched; the leg was small, but not thin, and gave promise of excellent outlines. You will agree, messieurs, that all this was well adapted to attract my glances. "The three girls were passing Mère Giroux, when she detained them. "'Well, where are you girls going, I'd like to know,' she cried, 'that you're all rigged up and sail by, all three of you, proud as ortolans, without so much as bidding me good-day?' "They stopped at that, and bade the dealer in gingerbread good-morning. "'Bonjour, Mère Giroux!' "'It's because we're in a hurry; we're going to Fontenay-aux-Roses.' "'We're going to dance.' "'We're going to see the shows, and the animals, and the monkeys.' "'Mon Dieu! you can see all that here! It ain't worth while to go out of your way to see monkeys!' "'Nonsense! it's going to be a lovely fête at Fontenay. You can see for yourself that everybody's going there.' "'Everybody's just stupid enough; when one makes a spitball, the rest would rather be hung than not do as much.' "'Oh! Mère Giroux! how spiteful you are!' "'I say, you Dargenettes, do your parents let you go running about the country like this, without them?' "'_Pardi!_ nobody'll kidnap us. Besides, Mignonne's with us.'