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Updated: June 18, 2025
Angelique wore her dress of white foulard, with its soft ruchings at the neck and wrists, and nothing else; neither earrings nor bracelets, only her bare wrists and throat, soft in their satiny whiteness as they came out from the delicate material, light as the opening of a flower. An invisible comb, put in place hastily, scarcely held the curls of her golden hair, which was carelessly dressed.
Gray velvet, trimmed with chinchilla, chinchilla hat, muff and coat. Traveling suit, dark-blue cloth cloak. EVENING DRESSES. Light green tulle, embroidered in silver, and for my locks, what they call une fantaisie. White tulle, embroidered with gold wheat ears. Light-gray satin, quite plain, with only Brussels lace flounces. Deep pink tulle, with satin ruchings and a lovely sash of lilac ribbon.
Before the trustee could protest anew she had rung the bell. It was another and an apronless Rachel that entered the room, a Rachel transformed, magnificent in light green frock with elaborate lacy ruchings and ornamentations, and the waist at the new fashionable height. Her ruddy face and hands were fresh from water, her hair very glossy and very neat: she was in high array.
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