Knowing a woman’s eyes are quicker than a man’s, Miss Hatshepsut pushed the ladder against the young man, giving herself enough time to slip the lighter into his pocket without him seeing.

When she reappeared wearing the size 8 nightdress, she saw him looking at her stunned. In his shortsighted eyes, she seemed to read the words: “This night is pregnant. It is carrying a whole new beautiful day!”

What he actually said, rather sadly, was: “You know, even with the best will in the world, I can’t buy this nightdress. You look so lovely in it that, in the evening, whenever my wife puts it on, I would be forced to think of you . . . And that wouldn’t be right. You do understand, don’t you? Thanks, anyway, and good night . . .”

With these words he left the store, pulling on his raincoat, while Miss Hatshepsut, all excited, stared after him down the street. Then, still in the nightdress, she unpacked the little gold box with feverish fingers, keeping the decorative paper and little bow for another occasion.

Inside the box lay something magical, the purpose of which she could not at once guess. It was a beautiful glass snail filled with silver powder, sealed with pink wax, with a wick in the center. It looked like a festive candle. Miss Hatshepsut wanted to light it but suddenly remembered she was wearing a nightdress, she was sitting in a store, and she did not have a lighter.