The result of my picturesque observations was that I never saw so many poppies before.  Probably they were the red sparks from the locomotive taking root and blooming along the road.

My physiognomical studies were more extended, and, without flattering myself, I believe Lavater himself would have approved them.

The cowl does not make the friar, but dress makes the woman.  I shall begin by giving you an extremely detailed description of the toilet of my incognita.  This is an accustomed method, which proves that it is a good one, since everybody makes use of it.  My fair unknown wore neither a bark blanket fastened about her waist, nor rings in her nose, nor bracelets on her ankles, nor rings on her toes, which must appear extraordinary to you.

She wore, perhaps, the only costume that your collection lacks, that of a Parisian grisette.  You, who know by heart the name of every article of a Hottentot’s attire, who are strong upon Esquimaux fashions and know just how many rows of pins a Patagonian of the haut ton wears in her lower lip, have never thought of sketching such an one.

A well-approved description of a grisette should commence with her foot.  The grisette is the Andalouse of Paris; she possesses the talent of being able to pass through the mire of Lutetia on tiptoe, like a dancer who studies her steps, without soiling her white stockings with a single speck of mud.  The manolas of Madrid, the cigaretas of Seville in their satin slippers are not better shod; mine—­pardon the anticipation of this possessive pronoun—­put forward from under the seat an irreproachable boot and aristocratically turned ankle.  If she would give me that graceful buskin to place in my museum beside the shoe of Carlotta Grisi, the Princess Houn-Gin’s boot and Gracia of Grenada’s slipper, I would fill it with gold or sugar-plums, as she pleased.

As to her dress, I acknowledge, without any feeling of mortification, that it was of mousseline; but the secret of its making was preserved by the modiste.  It was tight and easy at the same time, a perfect fit attained by Palmyre in her moments of inspiration; a black silk mantilla, a little straw bonnet trimmed plainly with ribbon, and a green gauze veil, half thrown back, completed the adornment, or rather absence of ornament, of this graceful creature.

Heavens!  I had like to have forgotten the gloves!  Gloves are the weak point of a grisette’s costume.  To be fresh, they must be renewed often, but they cost the price of two days’ work.  Hers were, O horror! imitation Swedish, which truth compels me to value at nineteen ha’-pennies, or ninety-five centimes, to conform to the new monetary phraseology.

A worsted work-bag, half filled, was placed beside her.  What could it hold?  Some circulating library novel?  Do not be uneasy, the bag only contained a roll and a paper of bonbons from Boissier, dainties which play an important part in my story.