As we left the gallery, I asked him what he thought of the Cleopatra (after making him laugh by telling him how Professor Emanuel had sent me to the right about, and taking him to see the sweet series of pictures recommended to my attention.) “Pooh!” said he. “My mother is a better-looking woman. I heard some French fops, yonder, designating her as ‘le type du voluptueux;’ if so, I can only say, ‘le voluptueux’ is little to my liking. Compare that mulatto with Ginevra!” CHAPTER XX. THE CONCERT. One morning, Mrs. Bretton, coming promptly into my room, desired me to open my drawers and show her my dresses; which I did, without a word. “That will do,” said she, when she had turned them over. “You must have a new one.” She went out. She returned presently with a dressmaker. She had me measured. “I mean,” said she, “to follow my own taste, and to have my own way in this little matter.” Two days after came home—a pink dress! “That is not for me,” I said, hurriedly, feeling that I would almost as soon clothe myself in the costume of a Chinese lady of rank. “We shall see whether it is for you or not,” rejoined my godmother, adding with her resistless decision: “Mark my words. You will wear it this very evening.” I thought I should not; I thought no human force should avail to put me into it. A pink dress! I knew it not. It knew not me. I had not proved it. My godmother went on to decree that I was to go with her and Graham to a concert that same night: which concert, she explained, was a grand affair to be held in the large salle, or hall, of the principal musical society. The most advanced of the pupils of the Conservatoire were to perform: it was to be followed by a lottery “au bénéfice des pauvres;” and to crown all, the King, Queen, and Prince of Labassecour were to be present. Graham, in sending tickets, had enjoined attention to costume as a compliment due to royalty: he also recommended punctual readiness by seven o’clock. About six, I was ushered upstairs. Without any force at all, I found myself led and influenced by another’s will, unconsulted, unpersuaded, quietly overruled. In short, the pink dress went on, softened by some drapery of black lace. I was pronounced to be en grande tenue, and requested to look in the glass. I did so with some fear and trembling; with more fear and trembling, I turned away. Seven o’clock struck; Dr. Bretton was come; my godmother and I went down. _She_ was clad in brown velvet; as I walked in her shadow, how I envied her those folds of grave, dark majesty! Graham stood in the drawing-room doorway. “I _do_ hope he will not think I have been decking myself out to draw attention,” was my uneasy aspiration.