eech.

"Then you don't like me?" she murmured, in a low voice. Tears came into
her eyes; her lips trembled.

"I don't see Jacqueline."

"No--I should hope not--but I am better than Jacqueline, am I not?"

"I am accustomed to Jacqueline. This new acquaintance disconcerts
me. Give me time to get used to her. But once again let me ask, what
possessed you to disguise yourself?"

"I am not disguised. I am disguised when I am forced to wear those
things, which do not suit me," said Jacqueline, pointing to her gray
jacket and plaid skirt which were hung up on a hat-rack. "Oh, I know why
mamma keeps me like that--she is afraid I should get too fond of dress
before I have finished my education, and that my mind may be diverted
from serious subjects. It is no doubt all intended for my good, but I
should not lose much time if I turned up my hair like this, and what
harm could there be in lengthening my skirts an inch or two? My picture
will show her that I am improved by such little changes, and perhaps it
will induce hor to let me go to the Bal Blanc that Madame d'Etaples is
going to give on Yvonne's birthday. Mamma declined for me, saying I was
not fit to wear a low-necked corsage, but you see she was mistaken."

"Rather," said Marien, smiling in spite of himself.

"Yes--wasn't she?" she went on, delighted at his look. "Of course,
I have bones, but they don't show like the great hollows under the
collar-bones that Dolly shows, for instance--but Dolly looks stouter
than I because her face is so round. Well! Dolly is going to Madame
d'Etaples's ball."

"I grant," said Marien, devoting all his attention to the preparation
of his palette, that she might not see him laugh, "I grant that you have
bones--yes, many bones--but they are not much seen because they are too
well placed to be obtrusive."

"I am glad of that," said Jacqueline, delighted.

"But let me ask you one question. Where did you pick up that queer gown?
It seems to me that I have seen it somewhere."

"No doubt you have," replied Jacqueline, who had quite recovered from
her first shock, and was now ready to talk; "it is the dress mamma had
made some time ago when she acted in a comedy."

"So I thought," growled Marien, biting his lips.

The dress recalled to his mind many personal recollections, and for one
instant he paused. Madame de Nailles, among other talents, possessed
that of amateur acting. On one occasion, several years before, she had
asked his