All her visitors, especially those who had missed a visit, came to bid her good-bye; the salon was thronged, and every one said farewell as though she were starting for Calcutta.

The next day the shopkeepers would stand at their doors to see the old carriole pass, and they seemed to be telling one another some news by repeating from shop to shop:-- "So Mademoiselle Cormon is going to Prebaudet!" Some said: "_Her_ bread is baked." "Hey! my lad," replied the next man.

"She's a worthy woman; if money always came into such hands we shouldn't see a beggar in the country." Another said: "Dear me, I shouldn't be surprised if the vineyards were in bloom; here's Mademoiselle Cormon going to Prebaudet.

How happens it she doesn't marry ?" "I'd marry her myself," said a wag; "in fact, the marriage is half-made, for here's one consenting party; but the other side won't.

Pooh! the oven is heating for Monsieur du Bousquier." "Monsieur du Bousquier! Why, she has refused him." That evening at all the gatherings it was told gravely:-- "Mademoiselle Cormon has gone." Or:-- "So you have really let Mademoiselle Cormon go." The Wednesday chosen by Suzanne to make known her scandal happened to be this farewell Wednesday,--a day on which Mademoiselle Cormon drove Josette distracted on the subject of packing.