And the two young girls began to heap into a trunk all the things they thought they should require.
“There now,” said Eugénie, “while I change my costume do you lock the portmanteau.”
Louise pressed with all the strength of her little hands on the top of the portmanteau.
“But I cannot,” said she; “I am not strong enough; do you shut it.”
“Ah, you do well to ask,” said Eugénie, laughing; “I forgot that I was Hercules, and you only the pale Omphale!”
And the young girl, kneeling on the top, pressed the two parts of the portmanteau together, and Mademoiselle d’Armilly passed the bolt of the padlock through.
When this was done, Eugénie opened a drawer, of which she kept the key, and took from it a wadded violet silk travelling cloak.
“Here,” said she, “you see I have thought of everything; with this cloak you will not be cold.”
“But you?”
“Oh, I am never cold, you know! Besides, with these men’s clothes—”
“Will you dress here?”
“Certainly.”
“Shall you have time?”
“Do not be uneasy, you little coward! All our servants are busy, discussing the grand affair. Besides, what is there astonishing, when you think of the grief I ought to be in, that I shut myself up?—tell me!”