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Updated: May 27, 2025
Derline came out of the great house, she was broken-hearted positively broken-hearted at the sight of her brougham; it really did make a pitiful appearance among all the stylish carriages which were waiting in three rows and taking up half the street. It was the brougham of her late mother-in-law, and it still rolled through the streets of Paris after fifteen years' service. Mme.
Derline had been admirably brought up by an irreproachable mother; she had been taught that she ought to get up in the morning, keep a strict account of her expenses, not go to a great dress-maker, believe in God, love her husband, visit the poor, and never spend but half her income in order to prepare dowries for her daughters. Mme. Derline performed all these duties.
The three generations had passed there a happy and moderate life, never having any great pleasures, but, also, never being very bored. The next day at eight o'clock in the morning Mme. Derline awoke with an uneasy feeling. She had passed a troubled night she, who usually slept like a child. The evening before at the opera, in the box, Mme.
"Oh! madame, it is not to be thought of. Even for a customer of the house it would be impossible." "But I wished it so much " "Go and see M. Arthur. He alone can " "And where is M. Arthur?" "In his office. He has just gone into his office. Over there, madame, opposite." Mme. Derline, through a half-open door, saw a sombre and severe but luxurious room an ambassador's office.
Derline found herself with Mademoiselle Blanche in a trying-on room, which was a sort of little cabin lined with mirrors. A quarter of an hour later, when the measures had been taken, Mme. Derline came back and discovered M. Arthur in the midst of pieces of satin of all colors, of crêpes, of tulles, of laces, and of brocaded stuffs.
The most beautiful woman in Paris intended to wait ten days before asking for the little groom. While she was going up-stairs at the Palmer's, she distinctly felt her heart beat like the strokes of a hammer. She was going to play a decisive game. She knew that the Palmers had been going everywhere, saying, "Come on Thursday; we will show you Mme. Derline, the most beautiful woman in Paris."
Nearly all the footmen were those of society, the highest society; they had spent the previous evening together at the English Embassy, and were to be that evening at the Duchess of Grémoille. Mme. Derline entered a sumptuous parlor; it was very sumptuous, too sumptuous.
Derline very gently, very quietly, brought the rebel back to reason. Of course there was charm and eloquence in her speech, but how much more charm and eloquence in the tenderness of her glance and smile. Why this great rage and despair? He was accused of being the husband of the most beautiful woman in Paris. Was that such a horrible thing, such a terrible misfortune?
Derline was seized with a hearty fit of laughter; so much so that the blond hair, which had been loosely done up, came down and framed the pretty face from which gleamed the dark eyes which could also, when they gave themselves the trouble, look very gentle, very caressing, very loving. "Oh, it was M. Renaud, the husband of that delightful Mme. Renaud!
So, after opening her eyes, Mme. Derline reclosed them lazily, indolently, with thoughts floating between dreamland and reality. She again saw the opera-house, and a hundred, two hundred, five hundred opera-glasses obstinately fixed on her on her alone. The maid entered, placed a tray on a little table, made up a big fire in the fire-place, and went away.
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