Francine colored, and smiled rather sadly at her mistress's gaiety.
"But who is yours?" she said.
Mademoiselle de Verneuil plucked out her dagger, and showed it to the
frightened girl, who dropped on a chair and clasped her hands.
"What have you come here for, Marie?" she cried in a supplicating
voice which asked no answer.
Mademoiselle de Verneuil was busily twisting the branches of holly
which she had gathered.
"I don't know whether this holly will be becoming," she said; "a
brilliant skin like mine may possibly bear a dark wreath of this kind.
What do you think, Francine?"
Several remarks of the same kind as she dressed for the ball showed
the absolute self-possession and coolness of this strange woman.
Whoever had listened to her then would have found it hard to believe
in the gravity of a situation in which she was risking her life. An
Indian muslin gown, rather short and clinging like damp linen,
revealed the delicate outlines of her shape; over this she wore a red
drapery, numerous folds of which, gradually lengthening as they fell
by her side, took the graceful curves of a Greek peplum. This
voluptuous garment of the pagan priestesses lessened the indecency of
the rest of the attire which the fashions of the time suffered women
to wear. To soften its immodesty still further, Marie threw a gauze
scarf over her shoulders, left bare and far too low by the red
drapery.
Pages:
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326