LITMIR.BIZ

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have melted the Choiseul party had they heard it. Then:

      "Come, come," said Chon; "let us be calm. Let us hunt up another hairdresser, and see about that dress not coming."

      "Then there is the coach," said Jean. "It ought to have been here by this. It is a plot. Will you not make Sartines arrest the guilty ones—Maupeou sentence them to death—and the whole gang be burned with their fellows on Execution Place? I want to rack the hairdresser, break the dressmaker on the wheel, and flay the coachbuilder alive."

      The countess had come to her senses but only to see the dreadful dilemma the better.

      At the height of this scene of tribulation, echoing from the boudoir to the street door, while the footmen were blundering over each other in confusion at a score of different orders, a young blade in an applegreen silk coat and vest, lilac breeches and white silk stockings, skipped out of a cab, crossed the deserted sill and the courtyard, bounded up the stairs and rapped on the dressing-room door.

      Jean was wrestling with a chins stand with which his coat-tail was entangled, while steadying a huge Japanese idol which he had struck too hard with his fist, when the three knocks, wary, modest and delicate, came at the panel.

      Jean opened it with a fist which would have beaten in the gates of Gaza. But the stranger eluded the shock by a leap, and falling on his feet in the third position of dancing, he said:

      "My lord, I come to offer my service as hairdresser to the Countess Dubarry, who, I hear, is commanded to present herself at court."

      "A hairdresser!" cried the Dubarrys, ready to hug him and dragging him into the room. "Did Lubin send you?"

      "You are an angel," said the countess.

      "Nobody sent me," returned the young man. "I read in the newspapers that your ladyship was going to court this evening, and I thought I might have a chance of showing that I have a new idea for a court headdress."

      "What might be your name, younker?" demanded Jean, distrustfully.

      "Leonard, unknown at present, but if the lady will only try me, it will be celebrated to-morrow. Only I must see her dress, that I may create the headdress in harmony."

      "Oh my dress, my poor, poor dress!" moaned the countess, recalled to reality by the allusion. "What is the use of having one's hair done up, when one has no robe?" and she fell back on the lounge.

      At this instant the doorbell rang. It was a dress-box which the janitor took from a porter in the street, which the butler took from him and which Jean tore out of his hands. He took off the lid, plunged his hand into the depths and yelled with glee. It enclosed a court dress of China satin, with flowers appliqué, and the lace trimming of incredible value.

      "A dress!" gasped Jeanne, almost fainting with joy as she had with grief. "But how can it suit me, who was not measured for it?"

      Chon tried it with the tape measure.

      "It is right in length and width of the waist," said Chon. "This is fabulous."

      "The material is wonderful," said Jean.

      "The whole is terrifying," said the countess.

      "Nonsense! This only proves that if you have bitter enemies, you have some sweet friends."

      "It cannot be a mere human friend, Jean," said Chon, "for how would such know the mischief set against us? it must be a sylph."

      "I don't care if it is the Old Harry, if he will help me against the Grammonts! He is not so black as those wretches," said the countess.

      "Now I think of it, I wager you may entrust your hair to this hairdresser, for he must be sent by the same friend who furnishes the dress," suggested Jean. "Own up that your story was pure gammon?"

      "Not at all," protested the young man, showing the newspaper. "I kept it to make the curls for the hair."

      "It is no use, for I have no carriage."

      "Hark, here it is rolling up to our door," exclaimed Chon.

      "Quick!" shouted Jean, "do not let them get away without our knowing to whom we owe all these kindnesses."

      And he rushed with janitor, steward and footmen out on the street. It was too late. Before the door stood two magnificent bay horses, with a gilded coach, lined with white satin. Not a trace of driver or footmen. A man in the street had run up to get the job of holding the horses and those who brought them had left him in charge. A hasty hand had blotted out the coat of arms on the panels and painted a rose.

      All this counter-action to the misadventures had taken place in an hour.

      Jean had the horses brought into the yard, locking the gates and pocketing the key. Then he returned to the room where the hairdresser was about to give the lady the first proofs of his skill.

      "Miracle!" said Chon, "the robe fits perfectly, except an inch out in front, too long; but we can take it up in a minute."

      "Will the coach pass muster?" inquired the countess.

      "It is in the finest taste. I got into it to try the springs," answered Jean. "It is lined with white satin, and scented with attar of roses."

      "Then everything is going on swimmingly," said the countess clapping her hands. "Go on, Master Leonard; if you succeed your fortune is made."

      With the first stroke of the comb, Leonard showed that he was an experienced hand. In three-quarters of an hour, Lady Dubarry came forth from his hands more seductive than Aphrodite; for she had more clothes on her, and she was quite as handsome.

      "You shall be my own hairdresser," said the lady, eyeing herself in a hand glass, "and every time you do my hair up for a court occasion, you shall have fifty gold pieces. Chon, count out a hundred to the artist, for I want him to consider fifty as a retaining fee. But you must work for none but me."

      "Then take your money back, my lady. I want to be free. Liberty is the primary boon of mankind."

      "God bless us! It is a philosophic hairdresser!" groaned Jean, lifting his hands. "What are we coming to? Well, Master Leonard, take the hundred, and do as you deused well please. Come to your coach, countess."

      These words were addressed to Countess Bearn, who limped out of the inner room.

      "Four of you footmen take the lady between you," ordered Jean, "and carry her gently down the stairs. If she utters a single groan, I will have you flogged."

      Leonard disappeared during this delicate task.

      "Where can he have slipped away?" the young countess wanted to know.

      "Where? By some rat hole or bang through the wall!" said the viscount. "As the spirits cut away. Have a care, my dear, lest your headdress becomes a wasp nest, your dress a cobweb, and your carriage a pumpkin drawn by a pair of mice, on arriving at Versailles."

      Enunciating this dreadful threat, Viscount Jean got into the carriage, in which was already placed Countess Bearn and the happy woman to whom she was to stand sponsor.

      Chapter XXIII.

       The Presentation.

       Table of Contents

      Versailles is still fine to look upon; but it was splendid to view in the period of its glory.

      Particularly was it resplendent when a great ceremony was performed, when the wardrobes and warehouses were ransacked to display their sumptuous treasures, and the dazzling illuminations doubled the magic of its wealth.

      It had degenerated, but it still was glowing when it opened all its doors and lit up all its flambeaux to hail the court reception of Countess Dubarry. The curious populace forgot its misery and its rags before so much bewildering show, and crammed the squares and Paris road.

      All the palace windows spouted flame, and the skyrockets resembled

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