A quarter of an hour, and more, passed, and no signal had been given.
Marien, getting out of patience, knocked on the door.

"Have you nearly done beautifying yourself?" he asked, in a tone of
irony.

"Just done," replied a low voice, which trembled.

He went in, and to the great amusement of Fraulein Schult, who was not
too preoccupied to notice everything, he stood confounded--petrified,
as a man might be by some work of magic. What had become of Jacqueline?
What had she in common with that dazzling vision? Had she been touched
by some fairy's wand? Or, to accomplish such a transformation, had
nothing been needed but the substitution of a woman's dress, fitted to
her person, for the short skirts and loose waists cut in a boyish
fashion, which had made the little girl seem hardly to belong to any sex,
an indefinite being, condemned, as it were, to childishness? How tall,
and slender, and graceful she looked in that long gown, the folds of
which fell from her waist in flowing lines, a waist as round and flexible
as the branch of a willow; what elegance there was in her modest corsage,
which displayed for the first time her lovely arms and neck, half afraid
of their own exposure. She still was not robust, but the leanness that
she herself had owned to was not brought into prominence by any bone or
angle, her dark skin was soft and polished, the color of ancient statues
which have been slightly tinted yellow by exposure to the sun. This
girl, a Parisienne, seemed formed on the model of a figurine of Tanagra.
Greek, too, was her small head, crowned only by her usual braid of hair,
which she had simply gathered up so as to show the nape of her neck,
which was perhaps the most beautiful thing in all her beautiful person.