Free The Collected Stories of Colette by Colette Page A

her.
    “Let’s see now, how about if we talk a little more seriously now? I’ve gotten it into my head that I could really do a job on you today. It’s days like this when my mind is set on business. Okay, for starters, pull this little cloche down over your beautiful hair for me! . . . You haven’t changed color?”
    “. . .”
    “Excuse me, it’s a reflection from the outside light. I was saying to myself: it has more gold in it than usual. You might have gotten the urge to change, just for a change. And then there are some people who go gray very early. On the side, on the side, completely covering one ear! There! . . . What do you think of it?”
    “. . . !”
    “I can see it’s not a hit. Besides, you’re right, it’s not your style. On you, it looks a little . . . a little too ladylike. It’s funny, I just sold the same hat to Mrs. W. She is ravishing in it, Mrs. W, with her long neck, and especially here, you see, her chin, her cheeks, so fresh and the ear . . . Let’s say goodbye to this style here for a minute; one lost, ten found. Look at that, what was I telling you! This is what we’re after. Way down, all right?”
    “. . .”
    “More than that, more than that! I can still see the hair on your temple, and on the back of your neck! I believe you’re familiar with the ‘great hat principle of the season,’ as the owner herself says?”
    “. . . ?”
    “The great hat principle is that when you meet a woman on the street and her hat allows you to see whether she’s a brunette, a blond, or a redhead, the woman in question is not wearing a chic hat. There! . . . Notice I’m not saying anything, I’ll let you make up your own mind. Well?”
    “. . .”
    “You prefer the navy-blue one? That one there, on the mushroom? Yes? . . . Well, really!”
    “. . .”
    “No, no, it’s not sold.”
    “. . . ?”
    “Why no, Madame, I don’t want to keep you from buying it! I wasn’t suggesting it to you because I didn’t think I was talented enough to sell hats like that one. But it’s true, it does seem to go with your face. Ah, you really know what it is you want! Like I always say: there are only two categories of clients whose minds can’t be changed: artists and lower-middle-class women.”
    “ . . .”
    “You’re not an artist, but you still have a very independent sense of judgment. Try on this one here, just for me. It’s not at all excessive, but I think it’s both rich and discreet, because of this polished cotton fantasia which gives it all its cachet . . . No? Ah, I’m not having any luck at all, you’re just trying to mortify me. If your two sons have your personality, they’ll be terrible men! Are those two big boys doing all right?”
    “ . . .”
    “Already? How time flies, my Lord! And still good-looking, I’m sure. Well, there’s nothing surprising about that.”
    “. . . !”
    “No, Madame, there’s no flattery intended at all; anyway, everybody in the shop agrees with me, it’s just what everybody says about the presence, the charm, the intelligence of your husband . . . and everyone knows that your two gorgeous children also inherited your beautiful health! What a shame they’re not daughters! I’d already be fitting them for hats, and spoiling them as much as you. So, nothing more today, except the little blue hat? Shall I have it sent down to you in your car?”
    “ . . .”
    “Yes, yes, don’t worry, I give the description of the car to the messenger boy myself. You think I don’t know the brown sedan you’ve had for six years? Goodbye, Madame, and thank you for your lovely visit, don’t go so long without coming to see your faithful saleswoman; I enjoy seeing you so much . . . it gives me a rest from our American clientele: all I feel like telling those women are disagreeable things.”

An Interview

    “I’m afraid so, dear lady, it’s me! Curse fate, it’s me again! You haven’t