He had thrown on a chair his damask napkin of Muscovite pattern, and instinctively glanced at himself in the mirror, just as a coquette might do before a rendezvous, smoothing out his flannel vest and spreading out his cravat that only half-fastened the blue foulard collar of his dressing-gown. At the moment that he was examining the folds made on his red leather slippers by his ample flannel trousers, a woman half-raised the satin portiere, and, standing within a frame formed by the folds of yellow satin, looked at the young man, displaying her brilliant teeth as she smilingly said: "Good-morning, Guy!" Lissac went straight toward her with outstretched hands. She allowed the large satin portiere to fall behind her, and after having permitted her little suede gloved hands to be raised for a moment, she boldly abandoned them to Guy, laughing the while, as they looked at each other face to face. He betrayed some little astonishment, gazing at her as a person examines one whom one has not seen for a long time, and the young woman raised her head unabashed, displaying her features in full light, as if submitting to an inspection with confidence. "You did not expect me, eh?" "I confess--" "Doubtless it is a considerable time since you thought of me." Guy was inclined to bow and, as his only reply, to kiss the tips of her fingers; but he reflected that, since they last met, the parting of his brown locks had been devilishly widened, and he remained standing, answering with the conceit of a handsome man: "You are mistaken, I often think of you." She had, with, a sweeping glance around the room, examined the furniture of the apartment, the framed pictures, the designs and the gilding, and, on sitting down near the fire with her little feet crossed, she expressed her opinion: "Very stylishly ensconced! You always had good taste, I know, my dear Guy." "I have less now than formerly, my dear Marianne," he said, giving to this airy remark the turn of a compliment. Marianne shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "Do you find me very much altered?" she asked abruptly. "Yes, rejuvenated." "I don't believe a word of it." "Upon my honor. You look like a communicant." "Good heavens! what kind?" said Marianne, laughing in a clear, ringing, but slightly convulsive tone. He was still looking at her curiously, seated thus near the fireplace. The bright and sparkling fire cast its reflections on the gold frames in waving and rosy tints that brightened the somewhat pale complexion of this young woman and imparted a warm tone to her small and brilliant gray eyes. She half turned her fair face toward him, her retrousse nose was tiny, spirituelle and mobile, her large sensuous mouth was provoking and seductive, and suggested by its upturned corners, encouragement or a challenge.