I do not know whether they were afraid of me, for not a word did any
of them say of the results of their conferences, only I was informed
that we were to have a reception in the evening, and a new white
taffeta dress, with all my mother's best jewels, was put out for me,
and my mother herself came to preside at my toilette and arrange my
curls. I did not suspect mischief even then, for I thought it was
all in honour of Solivet's poor little Petronille, whom he had
succeeded in marrying to a fat of Duke. What a transformation it was
from the meek little silent persionnaire without a word to say for
herself, into a gay butterfly, with a lovelock on her shoulder, a
coquettish twist of her neck, and all the language of the fan, as
well as of tongue, ready learned! I do not think her father was
quite happy about her manners, but then it served him right, and he
had got a dukedom for his grandchildren by shutting up his other poor
daughter in a convent.
By and by I saw my brother bowing with extra politeness, and then
Solivet found me out, and did himself the honour to present to me
Monsieur le Comte de Poligny, who, in his turn, presented M. le
Chevalier. The Count was a rather good-looking Frenchman, with the
air of having seen the world; the Chevalier was a slight little
whipper-snapper of a lad in the uniform of the dragoons, and looking
more as if he were fastened to his sword and spurs than they to him.
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