m?"

"Mamma," replied a voice which the chevalier recognized, by its shrill
tones, for that of Mademoiselle Emilie, "we beg pardon if we have done
wrong, and are willing to return."

"But, mamma," said another voice, which the chevalier concluded must
belong to Mademoiselle Athenais, "we thought that it was agreed that we
were to come in at dessert."

"Well, come in, since you are here; it would be ridiculous now to go
back. Besides," added Madame Denis, seating Athenais between herself and
Brigaud, and Emilie between herself and the chevalier, "young persons
are always best--are they not, abbe?--under their mother's wing."

And Madame Denis presented to her daughters a plate of bon-bons, from
which they helped themselves with a modest air which did honor to their
education.

The chevalier, during the discourse and action of Madame Denis, had time
to examine her daughters.

Mademoiselle Emilie was a tall and stiff personage, from twenty-two to
twenty-three, who was said to be very much like her late father; an
advantage which did not, however, suffice to gain for her in the
maternal heart an affection equal to what Madame Denis entertained for
her other two children. Thus poor Emilie, always afraid of being
scolded, retained a natural awkwardness, which the repeated lessons of
her dancing-master had not been able to conquer.

Mademoiselle Athenais, on the contrary, was little, plump, and rosy;
and, thanks to her sixteen or seventeen years, had what is vulgarly
called the devil's beauty. She did not resemble either Monsieur or
Madame Denis, a singularity which had often exercised the tongues of the
Rue St. Martin before she went to inhabit the house which her husband
had bought in the Rue du Temps Perdu. In spite of this absence of all
likeness to her parents, Mademoiselle Athenais was the declared favorite
of her mother, which gave her the assurance that poor Emilie wanted.
Athenais, however, it must be said, always profited by this favor to
excuse the pretended faults of her sister.

Although it was scarcely eleven o'clock in the morning, the two sisters
were dressed as if for a ball, and carried all the trinkets they
possessed on their necks, arms, and ears.

This apparition, so conformable to the idea which D'Harmental had formed
beforehand of the daughters of his landlady, gave him a new subject for
reflection. Since the Demoiselles Denis were so exactly what they ought
to be, that is to say, in such perf