Jacques Rival at his residence, a grand assault-at-arms, at which ladies
of fashion were to be present, saying: "It will be very interesting. But
I am so vexed we have no one to take us there, my husband being obliged
to be away at that time."
Du Roy at once offered his services. She accepted, saying: "My daughters
and I will be very much obliged to you."
He looked at the younger daughter, and thought: "She is not at all bad
looking, this little Susan; not at all." She resembled a fair, fragile
doll, too short but slender, with a small waist and fairly developed
hips and bust, a face like a miniature, grayish-blue, enamel-like eyes,
which seemed shaded by a careful yet fanciful painter, a polished,
colorless skin, too white and too smooth, and fluffy, curly hair, in a
charming aureola, like, indeed the hair of the pretty and expensive
dolls we see in the arms of children much smaller than their plaything.
The elder sister, Rose, was ugly, dull-looking, and insignificant; one
of those girls whom you do not notice, do not speak to, and do not talk
about.
The mother rose, and, turning to George, said:
"Then I may reckon upon you for next Thursday, two o'clock?"
"You may reckon upon me, madame," he replied.
As soon as she had taken her departure, Madame de Marelle rose in turn,
saying: "Good afternoon, Pretty-boy."
It was she who then clasped his hand firmly and for some time, and he
felt moved by this silent avowal, struck again with a sudden caprice for
this good-natured little, respectable Bohemian of a woman, who really
loved him, perhaps.
As soon as he was alone with his wife, Madeleine broke out into a laugh,
a frank, gay laugh, and, looking him fair in the face, said, "You know
that Madame Walter is smitten with you."
"Nonsense," he answered, incredulously.
"It is so, I tell you; she spoke to me about you with wild enthusiasm.
It is strange on her part. She would like to find two husbands such as
you for her daughters. Fortunately, as regards her such things are of no
moment."