Dépine's cheeks grew more pendulous. But their brown wigs remained as
fadeless as the cemetery flowers.

One day they passed the hairdresser's shop together. It was indeed
next to the tobacconist's, so not easy to avoid, whenever one wanted
a stamp or a postcard. In the window, amid pendent plaits of divers
hues, bloomed two wax busts of females--the one young and coquettish
and golden-haired, the other aristocratic in a distinguished grey wig.
Both wore diamond rosettes in their hair and ropes of pearls round
their necks. The old ladies' eyes met, then turned away.

"If one demanded the price!" said Madame Dépine (who had already done
so twice).

"It is an idea!" agreed Madame Valière.

"The day will come when one's nieces will be married."

"But scarcely when New Year's Day shall cease to be," the "Princess"
sighed.

"Still, one might win in the lottery!"

"Ah! true. Let us enter, then."

"One will be enough. You go." Madame Dépine rather dreaded the
_coiffeur_, whom intercourse with jocose students had made severe.

But Madame Valière shrank back shyly. "No, let us both go." She added,
with a smile to cover her timidity, "Two heads are better than one."