The slit in my dress was soon mended and, knowing now that the silk was not well dressed, I treated it with respect. Finally we started—Mlle. De Brabender, Mme. Guérard, and I in a carriage that was only intended for two persons, and I was glad that it was so small, for I was close to two people who were fond of me, and my silk frock was spread carefully over their knees. When I entered the waiting room that leads into the recital hall of the _Conservatoire_, there were about twenty young men and about thirty girls there. All these girls were accompanied by their mother, father, aunt, brother, or sister. There was an odor of pomade and vanilla that made me feel sick. When we were shown into this room, I felt that everyone was looking at me, and I blushed to the back of my head. Mme. Guérard drew me gently along, and I turned to take Mlle. De Brabender’s hand. She came shyly forward, blushing more, and still more confused than I was. Everyone looked at her, and I saw the girls nudge each other and nod in her direction. One of them suddenly got up and moved across to her mother. “Oh, mercy, look at that old sight!” she said. My poor governess felt most uncomfortable, and I was furious. I thought she was a thousand times nicer than all those fat, dressed-up, common-looking mothers. Certainly she was different from other people in her appearance, for Mlle. De Brabender was wearing a salmon-colored dress, an Indian shawl drawn tightly across her shoulders, and fastened with a very large cameo brooch. Her bonnet was trimmed with ruches so close together that it looked like a nun’s headgear. She certainly was not at all like these dreadful people in whose society we found ourselves, and among whom there were not more than ten exceptions to the rule. The young men were standing in compact groups near the windows. They were laughing and, I suspect, making remarks in doubtful taste. The heavy, red baize door opened, and a girl with a red face and a young man perfectly scarlet came back after acting their scene. They each went to their respective friends and then chattered away, finding fault with each other. A name was called out—Mlle. Dica Petit—and I saw a tall, fair, distinguished-looking girl move forward without any embarrassment. She stopped on her way to kiss a pretty woman, stout, with a pink-and-white complexion, and very much dressed up. “Don’t be afraid, mother dear,” she said, and then she added a few words in Dutch before disappearing, followed by a young man and a very thin girl who were to give her her cues. This was explained to me by Leautaud, who called over the names of the pupils and took down the names of those who were to act and those who were to give the cues. I knew nothing of all this, and wondered who was to give me the cues for _Agnes_. He mentioned several young men, but I interrupted him. “Oh, no,” I said, “I will not ask anyone. I do not know any of them, and I will not ask.”