'Well, then,' cried she, 'this is
one of those mistakes which so often happen. To-morrow I will return
your cashmere.--We have exchanged cashmeres,' said she, turning to
the young lady's father, who, surprised at seeing her naked
shoulders, gazed at his daughter, not understanding the matter. 'You
will have the goodness to send me my shawl to-morrow,' added she,
noticing how the young woman trembled.
"We returned into the ballroom, and the next day the young lady sent
to the Countess de St. Martin her precious shawl.
"Something similar to this happened at the same time to Madame
Hamelin. She was at a ball; when rising from her seat to join in a
contra-dance, she left there a very beautiful black shawl; when she
returned, her shawl was no longer there, but she saw it on the
shoulders of a well-known and distinguished lady. Approaching her,
she said:
"'Madame, you have my shawl!'
"'Not at all, madame!'
"'But, madame, this is my shawl, and, as an evidence, I can state
the number of its palms--it has exactly thirteen, a very unusual
number!'
"'My shawl has also, by chance, precisely thirteen palms.'
"'But,' said Madame Hamelin, 'I have torn it since I came here.
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