"Excuse my leaving you," she said, as she kissed them, "but it was M. Lordonnot, the architect of the Sacred Heart Convent. I cultivate him for the sake of my collections. Thanks to him I had forty-eight pounds you know last time. That's very good: Mme. de Berthival has never reached thirty-two pounds. I'm so glad to see you; it's very nice of you to have come. We'll go into the other room--there's no one here to-day. Mme. de Thesigny, Mme. de Champromard, and Mme. de Saint-Sauveur, and then two young men, young de Lorsac--you know him I think, mamma, and his friend de Maisoncelles? Wait a minute," she said to Renee, patting her hair down a little, "your hair looks like a little dog's," and then advancing and opening the drawing-room door, she announced her mother and sister. Every one rose, shook hands, or bowed, and then sat down again and looked at each other. Mme. Davarande's three lady friends were leaning back in their easy chairs in that languid attitude due to cushioned seats. They looked very dainty in their wide skirts, their lovely hats, and gloves about large enough for the hands of a doll. They were dressed perfectly, their gowns had evidently been cut by an artiste, their whole toilette with the hundred little nothings which set it off, their graceful attitudes, their bearing, their gestures, the movement of their bodies, the _frou-frou_ of their silk skirts--everything was there which goes to make the charm of the Parisian woman; and, although they were not beautiful, they had discovered the secret of appearing almost pretty, with just a smile, a glance, certain little details and semblances, flashes of wit, animation, and a smart look generally. The two friends, Lorsac and Maisoncelles, in the prime of their twenty years, with pink-and-white complexions, brilliant health, beardless faces and curled hair, were delighted at being invited to a young married lady's "At Home" day, and were sitting respectfully on the edge of their chairs. They were young men who had been very well brought up. They had just left a _pension_ kept by an abbe who gave little parties every evening, at which his sister presided, and which finished up with tea handed round in the billiard-room. "Henriette," said Mme. de Thesigny to Mme. Davarande, when the conversation had commenced again, "are we going to see Mlle. de Bussan's wedding to-morrow? I hear that every one will be there. It's made such a stir, this marriage." "Will you call for me, then? What's the bride-groom like--does any one know? Do you know him, Mme. de Saint-Sauveur?" "No, not at all." "Is she making a good match?" "An awful match!" put in Mme. de Champromard, "he hasn't anything--six hundred pounds a year all told." "But," said Mme. Mauperin, "it seems to me, madame, that six hundred----" "Oh, madame," continued Mme. de Champromard, "why, nowadays, that isn't enough to pay for having one's jewellery reset." "M. de Lorsac, are you coming to this wedding?" asked Mme. Davarande.