Eleven days later Madame Valiere and Madame Depine set out on
the great expedition to the hairdresser's to try on the Wig. The
"Princess's" excitement was no less tense than the fortunate winner's.
Neither had slept a wink the night before, but the November morning
was keen and bright, and supplied an excellent tonic. They conversed
with animation on the English in Egypt, and Madame Depine recalled the
gallant death of her son, the _chasseur_.
The _coiffeur_ saluted them amiably. Yes, mesdames, it was a beautiful
morning. The wig was quite ready. Behold it there--on its block.
Madame Valiere's eyes turned thither, then grew clouded, and returned
to Madame Depine's head and thence back to the Grey Wig.
"It is not this one?" she said dubiously.
"_Mais, oui_." Madame Depine was nodding, a great smile
transfiguring the emaciated orb of her face. The artist's eyes
twinkled.
"But this will not fit you," Madame Valiere gasped.
"It is a little error, I know," replied Madame Depine.
"But it is a great error," cried Madame Valiere, aghast. And her angry
gaze transfixed the _coiffeur_.
"It is not his fault--I ought not to have let him measure you."
"Ha! Did I not tell you so?" Triumph softened her anger. "He has mixed
up the two measurements!"
"Yes. I suspected as much when I went in to inquire the other day; but
I was afraid to tell you, lest it shouldn't even fit _you_."
"Fit _me_!" breathed Madame Valiere.
"But whom else?" replied Madame Depine, impatiently, as she whipped
off the "Princess's" wig. "If only it fits you, one can pardon him.
Let us see. Stand still, _ma chere_," and with shaking hands she
seized the grey wig.
"But--but--" The "Princess" was gasping, coughing, her ridiculous
scalp bare.
"But stand still, then! What is the matter? Are you a little infant?
Ah! that is better. Look at yourself, then, in the mirror. But it is
perfect!" "A true Princess," she muttered beatifically to herself.
"Ah, how she will show up the fruit-vendor's daughter!"
As the "Princess" gazed at the majestic figure in the mirror, crowned
with the dignity of age, two great tears trickled down her pendulous
cheeks.
"I shall be able to go to the wedding," she murmured chokingly.
"The wedding!" Madame Depine opened her eyes. "What wedding?"
"My nephew's, of course!"
"Your nephew is marrying? I congratulate you. But why did you not tell
me?"
"I did mention it. That day I had a letter!"
"Ah! I seem to remember. I had not thought of it." Then briskly:
"Well, that makes all for the best again. Ah! I was right not to scold
_monsieur le coiffeur_ too much, was I not?"
"You are very good to be so patient," said Madame Valiere, with a sob
in her voice.
Madame Depine shot her a dignified glance. "We will discuss our
affairs at home. Here it only remains to say whether you are satisfied
with the fit."
Madame Valiere patted the wig, as much in approbation as in
adjustment. "But it fits me to a miracle!"
"Then we will pay our friend, and wish him _le bon jour_." She
produced the fifty francs--two gold pieces, well sounding, for which
she had exchanged her silver and copper, and two five-franc pieces.
"And _voila_," she added, putting down a franc for _pourboire_, "we
are very content with the artist."
The "Princess" stared at her, with a new admiration.
"_Merci bien_," said the _coiffeur_, fervently, as he counted the
cash. "Would that all customers' heads lent themselves so easily to
artistic treatment!"
"And when will my friend's wig be ready?" said the "Princess."
"Madame Valiere! What are you saying there? Monsieur will set to work
when I bring him the fifty francs."
"_Mais non_, madame. I commence immediately. In a week it shall be
ready, and you shall only pay on delivery."
"You are very good. But I shall not need it yet--not till the
winter--when the snows come," said Madame Depine, vaguely. "_Bon
jour_, monsieur;" and, thrusting the old wig on the new block, and
both under her shawl, she dragged the "Princess" out of the shop.
Then, looking back through the door, "Do not lose the measurement,
monsieur," she cried. "One of these days!"