So the lady talked to Frisonnette in undertones, and Frisonnette listened to her in bewilderment, not quite certain whether she was twirling to the top of her ladder, or being victimised by a diabolical hoax. And the following forenoon she passed by appointment through imposing portals that often she had eyed with awe. And Finot, having satisfied himself that she had brains as well as grace--for they are very wide of the mark who think of his pampered mannequins as elegant mechanical toys--signified his august approval. Frisonnette went home and described the splendours of the place to Floromond, who congratulated her, with a misgiving that he tried to stifle. And later on she told him of the dazzling déjeuners that were provided, repasts which she vowed stuck in her throat, because he was not there to share them. And, not least, she sought to picture to him the gowns that she wore and sold. O visions of another world! There are things for which the vocabulary of the Académie Francaise would be inadequate. Such clothes looked too celestial to be touched. But she was a woman. Though her head was spinning, as Finot's mirrors reflected her magnificence, though she was admiring herself inimitably, she accomplished so casual an air that one might have thought she had never put on anything cheaper in her life. And, being a woman, she did not suffer from a spinning head very long; she soon became acclimatised. In the daytime, Frisonnette ate delicate food, and sauntered through stately show-rooms, robed like a queen--and in the evening she turned slowly to her little old frock, and supped on scraps in the garret. And now her laughter sounded seldom there. Gradually the contentment that had found a heaven under the tiles changed to a petulance that found beneath them nothing to commend. Her gaze was sombre, and often she sighed. And the misgiving that Floromond had tried to stifle knocked louder at his heart. By and by the little old frock was discarded and thrust out of view, and she wore costumes that made the garret look gaunter still, for with her increased salary, and commissions, she could afford such things. Floromond knew no regret when she ceased to speak of bettering their abode instead--his pride had revolted at the thought of astonishing their neighbours on his wife's money--but the smart costumes made her seem somebody different in his eyes, and moodily he felt that it was presumption for a fellow in such a threadbare coat to try to kiss her. "What a swell you are nowadays!" the poor boy would say, forcing a smile. And Frisonnette would scoff. "A swell? This rag!" as she recalled with longing the gorgeous toilettes that graced her in the show-room.