If Mme. d’Espard knew the object of their sarcasms from those feminine smiles and gestures, she was perfectly insensible to them.  In the first place, anybody must see that her companion was a poor relation from the country, an affliction with which any Parisian family may be visited.  And, in the second, when her cousin had spoken to her of her dress with manifest misgivings, she had reassured Anais, seeing that, when once properly dressed, her relative would very easily acquire the tone of Parisian society.  If Mme. de Bargeton needed polish, on the other hand she possessed the native haughtiness of good birth, and that indescribable something which may be called “pedigree.”  So, on Monday her turn would come.  And, moreover, the Marquise knew that as soon as people learned that the stranger was her cousin, they would suspend their banter and look twice before they condemned her.

Lucien did not foresee the change in Louise’s appearance shortly to be worked by a scarf about her throat, a pretty dress, an elegant coiffure, and Mme. d’Espard’s advice.  As they came up the staircase even now, the Marquise told her cousin not to hold her handkerchief unfolded in her hand.  Good or bad taste turns upon hundreds of such almost imperceptible shades, which a quick-witted woman discerns at once, while others will never grasp them.  Mme. de Bargeton, plentifully apt, was more than clever enough to discover her shortcomings.  Mme. d’Espard, sure that her pupil would do her credit, did not decline to form her.  In short, the compact between the two women had been confirmed by self-interest on either side.

Mme. de Bargeton, enthralled, dazzled, and fascinated by her cousin’s manner, wit, and acquaintances, had suddenly declared herself a votary of the idol of the day.  She had discerned the signs of the occult power exerted by the ambitious great lady, and told herself that she could gain her end as the satellite of this star, so she had been outspoken in her admiration.  The Marquise was not insensible to the artlessly admitted conquest.  She took an interest in her cousin, seeing that she was weak and poor; she was, besides, not indisposed to take a pupil with whom to found a school, and asked nothing better than to have a sort of lady-in-waiting in Mme. de Bargeton, a dependent who would sing her praises, a treasure even more scarce among Parisian women than a staunch and loyal critic among the literary tribe.  The flutter of curiosity in the house was too marked to be ignored, however, and Mme. d’Espard politely endeavored to turn her cousin’s mind from the truth.

“If any one comes to our box,” she said, “perhaps we may discover the cause to which we owe the honor of the interest that these ladies are taking——­”

“I have a strong suspicion that it is my old velvet gown and Angoumoisin air which Parisian ladies find amusing,” Mme. de Bargeton answered, laughing.