“Oh! don’t fear; I’m too tired,” murmured Jeanne.  “I am going to stop here, and be very, very good.  But, mamma dear, I may talk, mayn’t I?”

She nestled close to Helene, full of joy at the prospect of not being undressed at once.  She was in ecstasies over her embroidered purple gown and green silk petticoat; and she shook her head to rattle the pendants hanging from the long pins thrust through her hair.  At last there burst from her lips a rush of hasty words.  Despite her seeming demureness, she had seen everything, heard everything, and remembered everything; and she now made ample amends for her former assumed dignity, silence, and indifference.

“Do you know, mamma, it was an old fellow with a grey beard who made Punch move his arms and legs?  I saw him well enough when the curtain was drawn aside.  Yes, and the little boy Guiraud began to cry.  How stupid of him, wasn’t it?  They told him the policeman would come and put some water in his soup; and at last they had to carry him off, for he wouldn’t stop crying.  And at lunch, too, Marguerite stained her milkmaid’s dress all over with jam.  Her mamma wiped it off and said to her:  ‘Oh, you dirty girl!’ She even had a lot of it in her hair.  I never opened my mouth, but it did amuse me to see them all rush at the cakes!  Were they not bad-mannered, mamma dear?”

She paused for a few seconds, absorbed in some reminiscence, and then asked, with a thoughtful air:  “I say, mamma, did you eat any of those yellow cakes with white cream inside?  Oh! they were nice! they were nice!  I kept the dish beside me the whole time.”

Helene was not listening to this childish chatter.  But Jeanne talked to relieve her excited brain.  She launched out again, giving the minutest details about the ball, and investing each little incident with the greatest importance.

“You did not see that my waistband came undone just as we began dancing.  A lady, whose name I don’t know, pinned it up for me.  So I said to her:  ‘Madame, I thank you very much.’  But while I was dancing with Lucien the pin ran into him, and he asked me:  ’What have you got in front of you that pricks me so?’ Of course I knew nothing about it, and told him I had nothing there to prick him.  However, Pauline came and put the pin in its proper place.  Ah! but you’ve no idea how they pushed each other about; and one great stupid of a boy gave Sophie a blow on the back which made her fall.  The Levasseur girls jumped about with their feet close together.  I am pretty certain that isn’t the way to dance.  But the best of it all came at the end.  You weren’t there; so you can’t know.  We all took one another by the arms, and then whirled round; it was comical enough to make one die laughing.  Besides, some of the big gentlemen were whirling around as well.  It’s true; I am not telling fibs.  Why, don’t you believe me, mamma dear?”