It would be inexcusable on her part thus to be an accomplice in a plan, for it was evident that Felicien was keeping something back.

She was perfectly sure that he was not poor, and that he wore a workman's dress simply as a disguise; and this affected simplicity, all this history, told only that he might approach her, put her on her guard, amused and happy though she was, in reality, transfiguring him, seeing in him the royal prince that he should be; so thoroughly did she live in the absolute certainty of the entire realisation of her dream, sooner or later.
"No," she repeated in a half-whisper, "we should not have the needed time." And without lifting her eyes she continued, as if speaking to herself: "For the saint, we could use neither the close embroidery nor the lace openwork.

It would not be worthy of her.

It should be an embroidery in gold, shaded by silk." "Exactly," said Felicien.

"That is what I had already thought of, for I knew that Mademoiselle had re-found the secret of making it.