The frivolity of women!" Mademoiselle de Corandeuil threw herself back in her chair and gave way to an access of hilarity in which she rarely indulged.
"Mademoiselle Gobillot reading La Mode! Mademoiselle Gobillot talking of gowns, shawls, and cashmeres! Clemence, what do you say to that?
You will see, she will be ordering her bonnets from Herbault! Ha! ha! This is what is called the progress of civilization, the age of light!" "Mademoiselle Gobillot," said Clemence, fixing a penetrating glance upon the old man, "was not the only one who looked at La Mode.

Was there no other person in the tavern who saw it ?" "Madame," replied Rousselet, forced from his last refuge, "there were two young men taking their refection, and one of them wore a beard no longer than a goat's.

Madame will pardon me if I allow myself to use this vulgar expression, but Madame wished to know all." "And the other young man ?" "The other had his facial epidermis shaved as close as a lady's or mine.

He was the one who held the journal while his comrade was smoking outside the door." Madame de Bergenheim made no further inquiries, but fell into a profound revery.

With eyes fixed upon the last number of La Mode, she seemed to study the slightest lines of the sketch that had been made thereon, as if she hoped to find a solution to the mystery.