Montalais lifted her shoulders in a sigh of vexation.

"No time to get ready! No time to prepare a single dress! We are as far
behind the fashions as the Poles. We shall look like portraits from the
time of Henry IV. Ah, monsieur! this is sad news you bring us!"

"But, mesdemoiselles, you will be still beautiful!"

"That's no news! Yes, we shall always be beautiful, because nature has
made us passable; but we shall be ridiculous, because the fashion will
have forgotten us. Alas! ridiculous! I shall be thought ridiculous - I!"

"And by whom?" said Louise, innocently.

"By whom? You are a strange girl, my dear. Is that a question to put to
me? I mean everybody; I mean the courtiers, the nobles; I mean the king."

"Pardon me, my good friend; but as here every one is accustomed to see us
as we are - "

"Granted; but that is about to change, and we shall be ridiculous, even
for Blois; for close to us will be seen the fashions from Paris, and they
will perceive that we are in the fashion of Blois! It is enough to make
one despair!"

"Console yourself, mademoiselle."

"Well, so let it be! After all, so much the worse for those who do not
find me to their taste!" said Montalais, philosophically.