The Wedding Dress by Mary Burchell Page B

workroom, Lisette. It is possible — though by no means certain — that I shall use you for the wedding dress in the new Collection. But for this it will be necessary for you to cultivate a less sullen expression. ”
    “ Monsieur! ” Lisette’s sulky face cleared like magic. “ You say that I am to wear the wedding dress? ”
    “ No, Lisette. I did not say that, and well you know it, ” Florian assured her drily. “ Once more — no promises. What I said was that I might use you. A very different thing. ” Then, turning to Madame Moisant, he said, “ Madame, if I may have a word with you — ” And the two of them went out of the room.
    Everyone now crowded round Lisette, with an eagerness which made it plain to Loraine that the wearing of the wedding dress in any new Collection ranked as such an important favor that even the suggestion of being the fortunate one chosen conferred a special brilliance upon one.
    She herself was left isolated near the door and, as Florian and his directrice paused outside, she distinctly heard Madame Moisant say, as though she could no longer suppress her protest:
    “ Surely you would not really allow Lisette to wear the wedding dress? ”
    “ No, of course not. ” The reply was cool, frank and brutal, though delivered in an undertone. “ There is nothing bridal about Lisette. She is designed by nature for the Other Woman. It is the little Loraine who will make the perfect bride. She has all the qualities. ”
    “ You are already so sure? ” Even Madame Moisant sounded a trifle incredulous.
    “ Of course. One does not have a flash of genius in stages, ” replied Florian, without false modesty. “ One knows. ”
    “ The other one will tear her to pieces, ” observed the directrice unemotionally.
    “ Between now and then she will learn to defend herself. ” was the careless reply.
    Then they both went their separate ways, leaving Loraine divided between rapture and alarm. It seemed that her future path was to be fraught with most disagreeable perils. On the other hand, Florian had said she would probably wear the wedding dress. And already Loraine had absorbed enough of the dress-house atmosphere to assess — and covet — this signal honor.
    If one were to be torn to pieces by the dangerous Lisette, as Madame Moisant had so confidently prophesied, at least it would be in a splendid cause.
    By the time the afternoon show began, Loraine was icy with fear and burning with enthusiasm. She was not aware that what she was experiencing was a form of stage-fright. She only knew that, terrifyingly and miraculously, she was to play a part before strangers, and that on the way she played that part would depend her future with Florian.
    The other mannequins , of course, had already shown these particular models so many times that they were without nerves and also without that first keen interest which spells adventure instead of routine. In contrast, Loraine was keyed up to the finest edge of competitive zeal. And perhaps this helped to highlight her performance.
    At any rate, from the first moment she stepped out on the small stage and moved forward along the raised platform in the little black suit — her heart thumping, her eyes starry and her lips faintly smiling — until the final retreat in her last number — a miracle of rose and lavender tulle which seemed to embody the dreams of every girl choosing her first evening dress — she was an unqualified success.
    In some subtle, exciting way, she knew it herself. She heard the murmur of it in the admiring, indulgent comments of those who watched her. She saw the gleam of it in Florian’s smiling but watchful eyes. And somewhere, deep down inside her, there was the inner conviction that this was her natural and inevitable form of self-expression. She was doing this thing well because it was as natural to her as breathing.
    At the end, Madame Moisant said, “ It was well done. ” Clotilde said, “ You were superb, chérie