"Yes, madame. But perhaps madame has not quite decided to take a shawl?" "Oh, quite decided" (_trei-deycidai_). The young man went in search of cheaper wares. These he spread out solemnly as if they were things of price, saying by his manner, "Pay attention to all this magnificence!" "These are much more expensive," said he. "They have never been worn; they have come by courier direct from the manufacturers at Lahore." "Oh! I see," said she; "they are much more like the thing I want." The shopman kept his countenance in spite of inward irritation, which communicated itself to Duronceret and Bixiou. The Englishwoman, cool as a cucumber, appeared to rejoice in her phlegmatic humor. "What price?" she asked, indicating a sky-blue shawl covered with a pattern of birds nestling in pagodas. "Seven thousand francs." She took it up, wrapped it about her shoulders, looked in the glass, and handed it back again. "No, I do not like it at all." (_Je n'ame pouinte_.) A long quarter of an hour went by in trying on other shawls; to no purpose. "This is all we have, madame," said the assistant, glancing at the master as he spoke. "Madame is fastidious, like all persons of taste," said the head of the establishment, coming forward with that tradesman's suavity in which pomposity is agreeably blended with subservience. The Englishwoman took up her eyeglass and scanned the manufacturer from head to foot, unwilling to understand that the man before her was eligible for Parliament and dined at the Tuileries. "I have only one shawl left," he continued, "but I never show it. It is not to everybody's taste; it is quite out of the common. I was thinking of giving it to my wife. We have had it in stock since 1805; it belonged to the Empress Josephine." "Let me see it, monsieur." "Go for it," said the master, turning to a shopman. "It is at my house." "I should be very much pleased to see it," said the English lady. This was a triumph. The splenetic dame was apparently on the point of going. She made as though she saw nothing but the shawls; but all the while she furtively watched the shopmen and the two customers, sheltering her eyes behind the rims of her eyeglasses. "It cost sixty thousand francs in Turkey, madame." "Oh!" (_hau_!) "It is one of seven shawls which Selim sent, before his fall, to the Emperor Napoleon. The Empress Josephine, a Creole, as you know, my lady, and very capricious in her tastes, exchanged this one for another brought by the Turkish ambassador, and purchased by my predecessor; but I have never seen the money back. Our ladies in France are not rich enough; it is not as it is in England. The shawl is worth seven thousand francs; and taking interest and compound interest altogether, it makes up fourteen or fifteen thousand by now--" "How does it make up?" asked the Englishwoman. "Here it is, madame."