"Be so kind as to walk in, madame," she said with charming
graciousness. "My husband is not at home, but I shall be delighted to
receive you, I assure you. This must be the pretty little girl who was
so ill a few nights ago. Sit down for a moment, I beg of you."

Helene was forced to accept the invitation, while Jeanne timidly
perched herself on the edge of another chair. Madame Deberle again
sank down on her little sofa, exclaiming with a pretty laugh,

"Yes, this is my day. I receive every Saturday, you see, and Pierre
then announces all comers. A week or two ago he ushered in a colonel
suffering from the gout."

"How silly you are, my dear Juliette!" expostulated Mademoiselle
Aurelie, the elderly lady, an old friend in straitened circumstances,
who had seen her come into the world.

There was a short silence, and Helene gazed round at the luxury of the
apartment, with its curtains and chairs in black and gold, glittering
like constellations. Flowers decorated mantel-shelf, piano, and tables
alike, and the clear light streamed through the windows from the
garden, in which could be seen the leafless trees and bare soil. The
room had almost a hot-house temperature; in the fireplace one large
log was glowing with intense heat. After another glance Helene
recognized that the gaudy colors had a happy effect. Madame Deberle's
hair was inky-black, and her skin of a milky whiteness. She was short,
plump, slow in her movements, and withal graceful. Amidst all the
golden decorations, her white face assumed a vermeil tint under her
heavy, sombre tresses. Helene really admired her.