a heart-shaped locket, set with superb rubies and brilliants.  A white satin petticoat covered with priceless old lace, over which the crimson silk gown, open in front, was looped high upon the hips, and then swept back in a long, ample, richly trimmed train, completed the elegant toilet of Mme. la Marquise.  Jeanne, the favourite maid and confidante, held open the box of tiny black, “muoches”—­without which no fashionable lady of that epoch considered herself fully equipped—­while the marquise placed one, with most happy effect, near the corner of her rather pretty mouth, and then hesitated some time before she could decide where to put the other, which she held ready on the tip of her forefinger.  The two maids stood motionless, breathlessly watching their mistress, as if fully impressed with the importance of this grave question, until at last the little black star found a resting-place just above the edge of the crimson silk bodice, to the left—­indicating, in the accepted hieroglyphics of that age of gallantry, that he who aspired to the lips of the fair wearer must first win her heart.

After a last lingering look in the mirror Mme. la Marquise rose and walked slowly towards the fire, but suddenly, remembering that there was yet one adornment wanting, turned back, and took from a beautiful casket standing open on the toilet-table, a large, thick watch—­called in those days a Nuremberg egg—­which was curiously enamelled in a variety of bright colours, and set with brilliants.  It hung from a short, broad chain of rich workmanship, which she hooked into her girdle, near another chain of the same description, from which depended a small hand-mirror in a pretty gold frame.

“Madame is looking her loveliest to-day,” said Jeanne in flattering tones; “her hair is dressed to perfection, and her gown fits like a glove.”

“Do you really think so?” asked her mistress languidly, and with affected indifference.  “It seems to me, on the contrary, that I am positively hideous.  My eyes are sunken, and this colour makes me look immensely stout.  I have half a mind to exchange this dress for a black one now.  What do you think, Jeanne?  Black makes people look slender, they say.”

“If madame insists upon it I can quickly make the exchange; but it would be a sad pity not to wear such an elegant and becoming costume as madame has on now.”

“Well, let it be then; but it will be all your fault, Jeanne, if I fail to receive as much admiration as usual this evening.  Do you know whether the marquis has invited many people to come and see this play?”

“Yes, madame, several messengers have been sent off on horseback in different directions, and there will be sure to be a large gathering—­they will come from all the chateaux within driving distance—­for such an occasion as this is rare, here in the depths of the country.”

“You are right,” said Mme. la Marquise, with a deep sigh, which was almost a groan; “we are buried alive in this dreary place.  And what about these players?—­have you seen them, Jeanne?—­are there any handsome young actors among them?”