“Dark dresses, Hermance,” she said, “black dresses.  I know!  What remains of Aunt Pauline’s mourning?  There must remain quite a lot of things.  You see, I am too sad—­”

“But if madame expects to remain long in England?”

“Ah! as long as the Republic lasts.”

“Then it may be a long time.”

“What do you mean—­a long time?  What do you mean, Hermance?  Who can tell you such things?”

“It seems to me that if I were madame I’d take for precaution’s sake a few winter dresses, a few evening-dresses—­”

“Evening-dresses!  Why, what are you thinking of?  I shall go nowhere, Hermance, alone in England, without my husband, who stays in Paris in the National Guard.”

“But if madame should go to see their Majesties in England?”

“Yes, of course I shall, Hermance.”

“Well, it’s because I know madame’s feelings and views that—­”

“You are right; put in some evening-dresses.”

“Will madame take her last white satin dress?”

“Oh no, not that one; it would be too sad a memory for the Empress, who noticed it at the last ball at the Tuileries.  And then the dress wouldn’t stand the voyage.  My poor white satin dress!  Shall I ever wear it again?”

That is why I did not emigrate, and how I found myself blockaded in Paris during the siege.  From the few words that we had heard of the conversation of the little baroness and Hermance we had a pretty clear idea of the situation.  The Empire was overthrown and the Republic proclaimed.  The Republic!  There were among us several old family laces who had seen the first Republic—­that of ’93.  The Reign of Terror!  Ah, what tales they told us!  The fall of the Empire, however, did not displease these old laces, who were all Legitimists or Orleanists.  In my neighborhood, on a gooseberry satin skirt, there were four flounces of lace who had had the honor of attending the coronation of Charles X., and who were delighted, and kept saying to us:  “The Bonapartes brought about invasion; invasion brings back the Bourbons.  Long live Henry V.!”

We all had, however, a common preoccupation.  Should we remain in style?  We were nearly all startling, risky, and loud—­so much so that we were quite anxious, except three or four quiet dresses, velvet and dark cloth dresses, who joined in the chorus with the old laces, and said to us:  “Ah, here’s an end to the carnival, to this masquerade of an empire!  Republic or monarchy, little we care; we are sensible and in good taste.”  We felt they were somewhat in the right in talking thus.  From September to February we remained shut up in the wardrobes, wrangling with each other, listening to the cannon, and knowing nothing of what was going on.

Towards the middle of February all the doors were opened.  It was the little baroness—­the little baroness!

“Ah!” she exclaimed, “my dresses, my beloved dresses, there they are; how happy I am to see them!”