Jacqueline, vol 2 | Page 9

that. They improve when they are married."
"If one could only be sure."
"One is never sure of anything, especially anything relating to young
girls. One can not say that they do more than exist till they are married.
A husband has to make whatever he chooses out of them. You are quite
capable of making what you choose of your wife. Take the risk, then."
"I could educate her as to morals--though, I must say, I am not much
used to that kind of instruction; but you will permit me to think that, as
to person, I should at least wish to see a rough sketch of what I may
expect in my wife before my marriage."
At that moment, a girl who had been bathing came out of the water a
few yards from them; the elegant outline of her slender figure, clad in a
bathing-suit of white flannel, which clung to her closely, was thrown
into strong relief by the clear blue background of a summer sky.

"Tiens!--but she is pretty!" cried Gerard, breaking off what he was
saying: "And she is the first pretty one I have seen!"
Madame de Villegry took up her tortoiseshell opera-glasses, which
were fastened to her waist, but already the young girl, over whose
shoulders an attentive servant had flung a wrapper--a
'peignoir-eponge'--had run along the boardwalk and stopped before her,
with a gay "Good-morning!"
"Jacqueline!" said Madame de Villegry. "Well, my dear child, did you
find the water pleasant?"
"Delightful!" said the young girl, giving a rapid glance at M. de Cymier,
who had risen.
He was looking at her with evident admiration, an admiration at which
she felt much flattered. She was closely wrapped in her soft,
snow-white peignoir, bordered with red, above which rose her lovely
neck and head. She was trying to catch, on the point of one little foot,
one of her bathing shoes, which had slipped from her. The foot which,
when well shod, M. de Talbrun, through his eyeglass, had so much
admired, was still prettier without shoe or stocking. It was so perfectly
formed, so white, with a little pink tinge here and there, and it was set
upon so delicate an ankle! M. de Cymier looked first at the foot, and
then his glance passed upward over all the rest of the young figure,
which could be seen clearly under the clinging folds of the wet drapery.
Her form could be discerned from head to foot, though nothing was
uncovered but the pretty little arm which held together with a careless
grace the folds of her raiment. The eye of the experienced observer ran
rapidly over the outline of her figure, till it reached the dark head and
the brown hair, which rippled in little curls over her forehead. Her
complexion, slightly golden, was not protected by one of those absurd
hats which many bathers place on top of oiled silk caps which fit them
closely. Neither was the precaution of oiled silk wanted to protect the
thick and curling hair, now sprinkled with great drops that shone like
pearls and diamonds. The water, instead of plastering her hair upon her
temples, had made it more curly and more fleecy, as it hung over her
dark eyebrows, which, very near together at the nose, gave to her eyes a

peculiar, slightly oblique expression. Her teeth were dazzling, and were
displayed by the smile which parted her lips--lips which were, if
anything, too red for her pale complexion. She closed her eyelids now
and then to shade her eyes from the too blinding sunlight. Those eyes
were not black, but that hazel which has golden streaks. Though only
half open, they had quickly taken in the fact that the young man sitting
beside Madame de Villegry was very handsome.
As she went on with a swift step to her bathing-house, she drew out
two long pins from her back hair, shaking it and letting it fall down her
back with a slightly impatient and imperious gesture; she wished,
probably, that it might dry more quickly.
"The devil!" said M. de Cymier, watching her till she disappeared into
the bathing-house. "I never should have thought that it was all her own!
There is nothing wanting in her. That is a young creature it is pleasant
to see."
"Yes," said Madame de Villegry, quietly, "she will be very
good-looking when she is eighteen."
"Is she nearly eighteen?"
"She is and she is not, for time passes so quickly. A girl goes to sleep a
child, and wakes up old enough to be married. Would you like to be
informed, without loss of time, as to her fortune?"
"Oh! I should not care much about her dot. I look out first for other
things."
"I know, of course;