"There are no 'buts,'" said the marquise, impatiently. "I wish and expect, when your husband enters here, he will think he has gone back five years." In spite of a feeble resistance, Sophie Dutertre was docile and obedient to the advice and pretty attentions of her friend. Soon, half recumbent on an easy chair, in a languishing attitude, she consented that the marquise should give the finishing touch to the living picture. Finally Madeleine arranged a few curls of the rich brown hair around the neck of dazzling whiteness, lifted the sleeves so as to show the dimpled elbows, opened somewhat the neck of the gown, notwithstanding the chaste scruples of Sophie, and draped the skirt with provoking premeditation, so as to reveal the neatest ankle and prettiest little foot in the world. It must be said that Sophie was charming,--emotion, hope, expectation, and a vague disquietude, colouring her sweet and attractive face, animated her appearance, and gave a bewitching expression to her features. Antonine, struck with the wonderful metamorphosis, exclaimed, innocently, clapping her little hands: "Why, Sophie, I did not know you were as pretty as that!" "Nor did Sophie know it," replied Madeleine, shrugging her shoulders, "I have exhumed so many attractions." Just then Madame Dutertre's servant, having knocked at the door, entered, and said to her mistress: "Monsieur desires to speak to madame. He is in the shop, and wishes to know if madame is at home." "He knows you are here," whispered Sophie to Madeleine, with a sigh. "Make him come up," replied the marquise, softly. "Tell M. Dutertre that I am at home," said Sophie to the servant, who went out. Madeleine, addressing her friend in a voice full of emotion, as she extended her arms to her, said: "And now, good-bye, Sophie; tell your husband that he is delivered from M. Pascal." "You are going already?" said Sophie, with sadness; "when shall I see you again?" "I do not know,--some day, perhaps. But I hear your husband's step. I leave you." Then she added, smiling: "Only I would like to hide behind that curtain and enjoy your triumph." And making a sign to Antonine to accompany her, she retired behind the curtain which separated the room from the next chamber, just as M. Dutertre entered. For some moments the eyes of Charles wandered as if he were looking for some one he expected to meet; he had not discovered the change in Sophie, who said to him: "Charles, we are saved, here is the non-suit of M. Pascal." "Great God! can it be true?" cried Dutertre, looking over the paper his wife had just delivered to him; then, raising his eyes, he beheld Sophie in her bewitching, coquettish toilet. After a short silence produced by surprise and admiration, he exclaimed: "Sophie! what do I see? This toilet so charming, so new! Is it to celebrate our day of deliverance?"