from the old volume, printed in large type,
which she was reading, removed her spectacles, placed them in the book
to mark her place, and exclaimed:

"What, my little bigot, you at a ball! Do you know, my girl, this seems
to me downright nonsense! You and the hornpipe! Faith, all you need now
is to want to get married! A deuce of a want, that! But if you marry, I
warn you that I won't keep you--mind that! I've no desire to wait on
your brats! Come a little nearer----Oho! why----bless my soul!
Mademoiselle Show-all! We're getting to be a bit of a flirt lately, I
find----"

"Why no, mademoiselle," Germinie tried to say.

"And then," continued Mademoiselle de Varandeuil, following out her
thought, "among you people, the men are such sweet creatures! They'll
spend all you have--to say nothing of the blows. But marriage--I am sure
that that nonsensical idea of getting married buzzes around in your head
when you see the others. That's what gives you that simper, I'll wager.
_Bon Dieu de Dieu!_ Now turn a bit, so that I can see you," said
Mademoiselle de Varandeuil, with an abrupt change of tone to one that
was almost caressing; and placing her thin hands on the arms of her
easy-chair, crossing her legs and moving her foot back and forth, she
set about inspecting Germinie and her toilet.

"What the devil!" said she, after a few moments of silent scrutiny,
"what! is it really you?----Then I have never used my eyes to look at
you.----Good God, yes!----But----but----" She mumbled more vague
exclamations between her teeth.----"Where the deuce did you get that mug
like an amorous cat's?" she said at last, and continued to gaze at her.

Germinie was ugly. Her hair, of so dark a chestnut that it seemed black,
curled and twisted in unruly waves, in little stiff, rebellious locks,
which escaped and stood up all over her head, despite the pomade upon
her shiny _bandeaux_. Her smooth, narrow, swelling brow protruded above
the shadow of the deep sockets in which her eyes were buried and sunken
to such a depth as almost to denote disease; small, bright, sparkling
eyes they were, made to seem smaller and brighter by a constant girlish
twinkle that softened and lighted up their laughter. They were neither
brown eyes nor blue eyes, but were of an undefinable, changing gray, a
gray that was not a color, but a light! Emotion found expression therein
in the flame of fever, pleasure in the flashing rays of a sort of
intoxication, passion in