Nevertheless, Countess Karolowa did not cease loving Izabela; on the contrary, the energy and self-sacrifice Izabela had displayed in selling the heirlooms aroused a new source of family affection in the old lady’s heart. Not only did she persuade Izabela to accept a beautiful gown, not only did she call on her every day or invite her to her house, but (proof of inconceivable favour!) she even offered her the carriage for the whole of Holy Wednesday. ‘Drive around the town, my angel,’ said the Countess, kissing her niece, ‘and make your purchases. Only remember that during the collection you must look charming … as charming as only you know how … I beg you …’ Izabela made no reply, but her gaze made it evident that she was only too glad to indulge her aunt. Exactly at eleven on the morning of Holy Wednesday Izabela was already seated in the open carriage with her devoted Flora. Spring breezes were blowing along the Boulevard, wafting that peculiar sharp scent which precedes the bursting out of leaves on the trees and the appearance of the first primroses; the grey grassplots had taken on a greenish tinge; the sun shone so warmly that the ladies put up their parasols.
