, and in the latest fashion; a chest
of drawers of some simple wood, inlaid with lines of a darker hue,
contained the treasures of the toilet; a writing-table to match served
for inditing love-letters on scented paper; the bed, with antique
draperies, could not fail to suggest thoughts of love by its soft
hangings of elegant muslin; the window-curtains, of drab silk with
green fringe, were always half drawn to subdue the light; a bronze clock
represented Love crowning Psyche; and a carpet of Gothic design on a red
ground set off the other accessories of this delightful retreat. There
was a small dressing-table in front of a long glass, and here the
needlewoman sat, out of patience with Plaisir, the famous hairdresser.

"Do you think you will have done to-day?" said she.

"Your hair is so long and so thick, madame," replied Plaisir.

Caroline could not help smiling. The man's flattery had no doubt revived
in her mind the memory of the passionate praises lavished by her lover
on the beauty of her hair, which he delighted in.

The hairdresser having done, a waiting-maid came and held counsel with
her as to the dress in which Roger would like best to see her. It was
the beginning of September 1816, and the weather was cold; she chose a
green _grenadine_ trimmed with chinchilla. As soon as she was dressed,
Caroline flew into the drawing-room and opened a window, out of which
she stepped on to the elegant balcony, that adorned the front of the
house; there she stood, with her arms crossed, in a charming attitude,
not to show herself to the admiration of the passers-by and see them
turn to gaze at her, but to be able to look out on the Boulevard at the
bottom of the Rue Taitbout. This side view, really very comparable to
the peephole made by actors in the drop-scene of a theatre, enabled
her to catch a glimpse of numbers of elegant carriages, and a crowd of
persons, swept past with the rapidity of _Ombres Chinoises_. Not knowing
whether Roger would arrive in a carriage or on foot, the needlewoman
from the Rue du Tourniquet looked by turns at the foot-passengers, and
at the tilburies--light cabs introduced into Paris by the English.

Expressions of refractoriness and of love passed by turns over her
youthful face when, after waiting for a quarter of an hour, neither her
keen eye nor her heart had announced the arrival of him whom she knew
to be due. What disdain, what indifference were shown in her beautiful
features for al