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Updated: May 27, 2025
Derline had vaguely felt that something was going on around her. And during the entire last act an opera-glass, obstinately fixed on her the prince's opera-glass had thrown her into a certain agitation, not disagreeable, however. She wore a low dress too much so, in her mother's opinion and two or three times, under the fixity of that opera-glass, she had raised the shoulder-straps of her dress.
Derline got into the woe-begone brougham to drive straight to a very well-known carriage-maker, and that evening, cleverly seizing the psychological moment, she explained to M. Derline that she had seen a certain little black coupé lined with blue satin that would frame delightfully her new dresses.
Derline succeeded in getting hold of a disengaged saleswoman, and there was the same slightly disdainful glance a glance which was accompanied by the phrase: "Madame is not a regular customer of the house?" "No, I am not a customer " "And you wish?" "A dress, a ball-dress and I want the dress for next Thursday evening " "Thursday next!" "Yes, Thursday next."
During this time Prince Agénor, seated in the club at the whist-table, was saying, while shuffling the cards: "This evening at the opera there was a marvellous woman, a certain Mme. Derline. She is the most beautiful woman in Paris!"
"I am removing her from the middle class," he said; "I owe it to Palmer, who is one of the best fellows in the world." The prince found the banker alone in a lower box. "What is the name the name of that blonde in the Sainte Mesme's box?" "Mme. Derline." "Is there a M. Derline?" "Certainly, a lawyer my lawyer; the Sainte Mesme's lawyer. And if you want to see Mme.
We know, and our readers will doubtless thank us for telling them the name of this ideal wonder. It is Mme. Derline. Her name! She had read her name! She was dazzled. Her eyes clouded. All the letters in the alphabet began to dance wildly on the paper. Then they calmed down, stopped, and regained their places. She was able to find her name, and continue reading; It is Mme.
This is how on Thursday, April 25th, at half-past ten in the evening, a very pretty chestnut mare, driven by a very correct English coachman, took M. and Mme. Derline to the Palmer's. They still lacked something a little groom to sit beside the English coachman. But a certain amount of discretion had to be employed.
The following morning Mme. Derline found ten lines on the Palmer's ball in the "society column." There was mention of the marquises, the countesses, and the duchesses who were there, but about Mme. Derline there was not a word not a word.
Derline left alone when an idea flashed through her head which was to call forth a very pretty collection of bank-notes from the cash-box of the lawyer of the Rue Dragon. Mme. Derline had intended wearing to the Palmer's ball a dress which had already been much seen. Mme. Derline had kept the dress-maker of her wedding-dress, her mother's dress-maker, a dress-maker of the Left Bank.
Derline came back the next day, and the next, and every day till the day before the famous Thursday; and each time that she came back, while awaiting her turn to try on, she ordered dresses, very simple ones, but yet costing from seven to eight hundred francs each. And that was not all. On the day of her first visit to M. Arthur, when Mme.
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