"No; there isn't anything more embarrassing than looking poor in a ton of rich ladies."
"How inept you are!" her better half cried. "Take a quick trip and see your companion Madame Forestier and request that she loan you a few gems. You know her all around ok for that."
She expressed a cry of satisfaction.
"Obviously. I had not thought about that."
The following day she went to her companion's home and told her of her trouble.
Madame Forestier went to her reflected closet, took out an enormous box, brought it back, opened it, and shared with Madame Loisel:
"Pick, my dear."
First she saw a few arm bands, then, at that point, a pearl neckband, then a gold Venetian cross set with valuable stones, of impeccable craftsmanship. She took a stab at the gems in the mirror, faltered, couldn't tolerate parting with them, to give them back. She continued to inquire:
"You have nothing else?"
"Why, yes. However, I don't have the foggiest idea what you like."
Unexpectedly she found, in a dark silk box, a brilliant jewel neckband, and her heart started to thump with uncontrolled craving. Her hands shuddered as she took it. She secured it around her neck, over her high-necked dress, and stood lost in joy as she checked herself out.
Then, at that point, she asked tensely, faltering:
"Could you loan me this, simply this?"
"Why, indeed, obviously."
She tossed her arms around her companion's neck, embraced her happily, then escaped with her fortune.
The day of the party showed up. Madame Loisel was a triumph. She was prettier than the wide range of various ladies, rich, charitable, grinning, and exuberant. Every one of the men gazed at her, asked her name, attempted to be presented. All the bureau authorities needed to waltz with her. The clergyman saw her.