“What a lovely dress!  To whom does it belong, M. de Seingalt?  You ought to know.”

“Certainly.  It belongs to your husband who can do what he likes with it, and I hope, if he gives it you, you will take it.  Take it, count; it is yours; and if you refuse I will positively kill myself.”

“We love you too well to drive you to an act of despair.  The idea is worthy of your nobility of heart.  I take your beautiful present with one hand, and with the other I deliver it to her to whom it really belongs.”

“What, dear husband! is this beautiful dress really mine?  Whom am I to thank?  I thank you both, and I must put it on for dinner.”

The two others were not made of such rich materials, but they were more showy, and I was delighted to see Clementine’s longing gaze fixed upon the one I had intended for her.  Eleanore in her turn admired the dress that had been made for her.  The first was in shot satin, and ornamented with lovely wreaths of flowers; the second was sky-blue satin, with a thousand flowers scattered all over it.  Zenobia took upon herself to say that the first was for Clementine.

“How do you know?”

“It is the longer, and you are taller than your sister.”

“That is true.  It is really mine, then?” said she, turning to me.

“If I may hope that you will deign to accept it.”

“Surely, dear Iolas, and I will put it on directly.”

Eleanore maintained that her dress was the prettier, and said she was dying to put it on.

“Very good, very good!” I exclaimed, in high glee, “we will leave you to dress, and here are your maids.”

I went out with the two brothers and the canon, and I remarked that they looked quite confused.  No doubt they were pondering the prodigality of gamesters; light come, light go.  I did not interrupt their thoughts, for I loved to astonish people.  I confess it was a feeling of vanity which raised me above my fellow-men-at least, in my own eyes, but that was enough for me.  I should have despised anyone who told me that I was laughed at, but I daresay it was only the truth.

I was in the highest spirits, and they soon proved infectious.  I embraced Count Ambrose affectionately, begging his pardon for having presumed to make the family a few small presents, and I thanked his brother for having introduced me to them.  “You have all given me such a warm welcome,” I added, “that I felt obliged to give you some small proof of my gratitude.”

The fair countesses soon appeared, bedecked with smiles and their gay attire.

“You must have contrived to take our measures,” said they; “but we cannot imagine how you did it.”

“The funniest thing is,” said the eldest, “that you have had my dress made so that it can be let out when necessary without destroying the shape.  But what a beautiful piece of trimming!  It is worth four times as much as the dress itself.”