As I went along the passage, I was thinking whether my dress could be
so very ridiculous as my old cousin thought it, and trying in vain to
recollect any evidence of a similar contemptuous estimate on the part of
that beautiful and garrulous dandy. I could not--quite the reverse, indeed.
Still I was uncomfortable and feverish--girls of my then age will easily
conceive how miserable, under similar circumstances, such a misgiving would
make them.
It was a long way to Madame's room. I met Mrs. Rusk bustling along the
passage with a housemaid.
'How is Madame?' I asked.
'Quite well, I believe,' answered the housekeeper, drily. 'Nothing the
matter that _I_ know of. She eat enough for two to-day. I wish _I_ could
sit in my room doing nothing.'
Madame was sitting, or rather reclining, in a low arm-chair, when I entered
the room, close to the fire, as was her wont, her feet extended near to the
bars, and a little coffee equipage beside her. She stuffed a book hastily
between her dress and the chair, and received me in a state of langour
which, had it not been for Mrs. Rusk's comfortable assurances, would have
frightened me.
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