tiny
slippered foot) "will that dress never come?"

"It must be very trying!" said Maurice, endeavoring to assume a tone of
sympathy.

"Trying? it is _killing_! Imagine my state of mind. I cannot go
_without_ this dress: all my other toilets have been seen more than once
in public; and this one was sure to create a sensation,--was planned for
this very occasion!"

"I fear my visit is inopportune, and ought to be shortened," replied
Maurice, for the agitated manner and troubled look of Madame de Fleury
made him feel that he must be an intruder. "I will only remain long
enough to know if you will receive my grandmother, my father, and my
cousin, Mademoiselle Bertha, to-morrow; they are very"--

"Hush!" cried Madame de Fleury, raising her finger and listening with an
eager countenance. "Was that not a ring? Patrick is opening the door.
Hush! let me listen! It is the dress,--it must be the dress!" and she
made several rapid steps toward the door, but returned to her seat as
the servant passed through the entry with empty hands. "This is
terrible! I have not my wits about me; I do not know what I am doing or
saying!"

"I am truly concerned," observed Maurice, who had risen to depart. "May
I tell the Countess de Gramont that you will receive her to-morrow?"

"To-morrow? Yes, certainly. I do not remember any engagement, but I can
think of nothing at this moment. If that tormenting dress would only
arrive! I fear it will never be here! It is the first time Mademoiselle
Melanie ever disappointed me; she is punctuality itself. This waiting is
torture, and completely upsets me,--turns my brain; it will throw me
into a nervous fever. You, insensible men, cannot feel for such a
position; you do not know the importance of a toilet."

"We must be very dull if we do not know how to appreciate those of
Madame de Fleury," replied Maurice, bowing courteously. "Pray, do not
include me in the catalogue of such sightless individuals. I will bid
you adieu until to-morrow, when you will allow me to accompany my
grandmother?"

"You are always welcome. Pray tell the countess I shall be charmed to
see her, and say the same to that cruel Mademoiselle Bertha,--though I
ought not to forgive her treatment of my brother. Say to her that he is
yet unconsoled. Good gracious! That dress certainly is not coming! If it
were to arrive at this moment I should be obliged to hasten; and to give
the _finishing_ touches to a toilet in a hurried and di