THE CYTHEREA OF FASHION.
Maurice had so unceremoniously parted from Lord Linden and M. de Bois
because he suddenly remembered that Mr. Lorrillard had impressed upon
him the necessity of making his arrangements with Mr. Emerson without
delay, as the present was a peculiarly favorable moment for purchasing
shares in the mines whose iron he hoped to convert to gold.
The viscount presented himself at Mr. Emerson's office, and delivered
Mr. Lorrillard's letter. This latter gentleman was held in such high
esteem that an introduction of his was certain of meeting with the
utmost consideration. Mr. Emerson, after only a brief conversation with
Maurice, informed him that he was ready to make the desired loan upon
the security offered, and begged that he would call the next morning,
when the necessary formalities would at once be gone through.
Gratified by his visit and elated by the prospect of effecting a
business transaction of so much importance, never dreaming of the fatal
sequence which might be the result, Maurice drove to the residence of
the French ambassador. It was not Madame de Fleury's reception-day, but
by some mistake he was ushered into her drawing-room. In a few minutes,
Lurline, a confidential _femme de chambre_, whom Maurice had often seen
in Paris,--a being all fluttering ribbons and alluring smiles and
graceful courtesies and coquettish airs,--made her appearance.
"Madame has received the card of monsieur _le vicomte_," she began, with
a sugary accent and soft manner, which reminded one strongly of the
tones and deportment of her mistress. "Madame would not treat monsieur
as a stranger, and therefore sent _me_,"--here, with her head on one
side, she courtesied again, bewitchingly,--"to say that we have a new
valet,--an ignorant fellow, for it is impossible to procure a decent
domestic in America,--and this untrained creature has to be drilled into
_les usages_: he has forgotten that madame only receives on Saturday.
Madame, however, would see _M. le vicomte_ at any time that was
possible."
"I am delighted to hear you say so," returned Maurice, "for I am very
desirous of having the pleasure of paying my respects."
"Madame is preparing for a _matinée_, at the Spanish Embassy. She is
just _coiffé_, and monsieur should see what a magnificent head I have
made for her. Notwithstanding my success with her head she is at this
moment in deep distress: her dress has not yet arrived; we expect it
every moment! Madame's agitation is overpowering. She is quite unequal
to encountering a disappointment of this crushing nature. She begs
monsieur will excuse"--
Before she could finish the sentence, the marchioness herself appeared,
wrapped in a delicate, rose-colored _robe-de-chambre_, prodigally
adorned with lace and embroidery.
"My dear M. de Gramont, I meant to excuse myself; but as I am forced to
wait for that tantalizing dress, a few moments with you, _en attendant_,
will divert my thoughts. I had heard from M. de Bois, that the Countess
de Gramont and her son, with Mademoiselle de Merrivale, are honoring
Washington by their presence; but I was informed that _you_ were not
here. You see I paid you the compliment of inquiring."
As she spoke, she glanced at the mirror opposite, and arranged the long
sprays of feathery flowers that were mingled with her braided tresses.
"I am highly flattered at not being forgotten," replied Maurice. "I only
arrived this morning, and hastened to pay my respects."
"And you ought to be very much flattered that I can spare you an
instant, at such a critical moment. Here is my toilet for this _matinée_
at a dead stand-still, because that tiresome dress has not come. It is
one I ordered expressly for the occasion, and, I assure you, it is a
perfect triumph of art,--a victory gained over great obstacles. Let me
tell you, nothing is more difficult to manage than an appropriate
costume for a _matinée_. One's toilet must be a delicate compromise
between ball attire and full visiting dress, but Mademoiselle Melanie
has hit the _juste milieu_; and succeeded in carrying me through all the
perils of Scylla and Charybdis. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" (stamping her tiny
slippered foot) "will that dress never come?"
"It must be very trying!" said Maurice, endeavoring to assume a tone of
sympathy.
"Trying? it is _killing_! Imagine my state of mind. I cannot go
_without_ this dress: all my other toilets have been seen more than once
in public; and this one was sure to create a sensation,--was planned for
this very occasion!"
"I fear my visit is inopportune, and ought to be shortened," replied
Maurice, for the agitated manner and troubled look of Madame de Fleury
made him feel that he must be an intruder. "I will only remain long
enough to know if you will receive my grandmother, my father, and my
cousin, Mademoiselle Bertha, to-morrow; they are very"--
"Hush!" cried Madame de Fleury, raising her finger and listening with an
eager countenance. "Was that not a ring? Patrick is opening the door.
Hush! let me listen! It is the dress,--it must be the dress!" and she
made several rapid steps toward the door, but returned to her seat as
the servant passed through the entry with empty hands. "This is
terrible! I have not my wits about me; I do not know what I am doing or
saying!"
"I am truly concerned," observed Maurice, who had risen to depart. "May
I tell the Countess de Gramont that you will receive her to-morrow?"
"To-morrow? Yes, certainly. I do not remember any engagement, but I can
think of nothing at this moment. If that tormenting dress would only
arrive! I fear it will never be here! It is the first time Mademoiselle
Melanie ever disappointed me; she is punctuality itself. This waiting is
torture, and completely upsets me,--turns my brain; it will throw me
into a nervous fever. You, insensible men, cannot feel for such a
position; you do not know the importance of a toilet."
"We must be very dull if we do not know how to appreciate those of
Madame de Fleury," replied Maurice, bowing courteously. "Pray, do not
include me in the catalogue of such sightless individuals. I will bid
you adieu until to-morrow, when you will allow me to accompany my
grandmother?"
"You are always welcome. Pray tell the countess I shall be charmed to
see her, and say the same to that cruel Mademoiselle Bertha,--though I
ought not to forgive her treatment of my brother. Say to her that he is
yet unconsoled. Good gracious! That dress certainly is not coming! If it
were to arrive at this moment I should be obliged to hasten; and to give
the _finishing_ touches to a toilet in a hurried and discomposed manner
is to run the risk of spoiling the general effect. What _can_ have
happened to Mademoiselle Melanie? Hark! is not that some one? Did you
not hear a ring? I am not mistaken; some one _did_ come in. It is the
dress at last!"
The marchioness started up joyfully, with clasped hands, and an
expression of deep gratitude. A servant entered with a note; she
snatched it petulantly and tossed it into the card-basket unopened.
"How vexatious! Only a note! It is _too_ cruel! I shall never, never
pardon Mademoiselle Melanie if she disappoints me. But that's easy
enough to say, difficult enough to carry into execution. In reality I
could not exist without her; and Mademoiselle Melanie knows _that_ as
well as I do. She is so sought after that her exhibition-rooms are
crowded from morning until night. It is now a favor for her to receive
any new customers, and I believe she has some thirty or forty workwomen
in her employment. Of course, you have heard of Mademoiselle Melanie?"
"I have not had that pleasure; she is a mantua-maker, I presume,"
returned Maurice, repressing a smile.
"I suppose that is what, strictly speaking, we must call her; but she is
the very Queen of Taste, the Sovereign of Modistes. She has a genius
that is extraordinary,--it is magic,--it is inspiration! A touch of her
hand transforms every one who approaches her. What figures she has made
for some of these American women! What charms she has developed in them!
What an air and grace she has imparted to their whole appearance! She
makes the most vulgar look elegant, and the elegant, divine! Another
ring. Now Heaven grant it may be the dress at last!"
The marchioness was again disappointed: it was only another note, which
shared the fate of the former.
"Oh, I shall not survive this!" she ejaculated, dropping into an
arm-chair; "and that horrid little Mrs. Gilmer will triumph in my
absence. You know Mrs. Gilmer?"
"I have not that honor," returned Maurice, who, impatient as he was to
take his leave, found it impossible to depart while the marchioness
chose to detain him.
"She attempts to pass herself off for a belle, and even tries to take
precedence of _me_, ignoring all the customs of good society; but,
doubtless, the poor thing is actually ignorant of them, and should be
pardoned and pitied for her ill-breeding. She is the wife of Gilmer, the
rich banker. It is to Mademoiselle Melanie that she is indebted for all
her social success. Mademoiselle Melanie positively _created_ her, and
she never wears anything made by any one else. It is all owing to
Mademoiselle Melanie that the men surround her as they do, and try to
persuade themselves that she is pretty. Pretty! with her turn-up nose,
and colorless hair and eyes. Her husband is immensely rich; and, as
wealth rules the day in this country, she takes good care that the depth
of his purse shall be known; for that purpose she loads herself with
diamonds,--always diamonds. She has not the least idea of varying her
jewels; even Mademoiselle Melanie could not make her comprehend that
art. I wonder she does not have a dress contrived of bank-notes! _That_
would be novel, and it would also prove a capital way of announcing her
opulence!"
"A rather dangerous costume!" returned Maurice, laughing.
"At all events it would be original; and, as originality is sure to
produce an effect, the saucy little _parvenue_ might afford to follow my
advice, even though it came from an enemy."
Maurice could not help exclaiming with a comical intonation,--for there
was something irresistibly ludicrous in the puny fierceness of the
dressed doll,--"An enemy!"
"Oh, there is no concealment about it!" exclaimed Madame de Fleury with
the air of a Liliputian belligerent. "It is open warfare; we are at
swords' points, and all the world knows our animosity. And Mrs. Gilmer
has the impertinence to pretend that our _styles_ are quite similar, and
that the same modes become us. She even declares that such has been
Mademoiselle Melanie's verdict, and from the judgment of Mademoiselle
Melanie nobody dares to appeal."
"This Mademoiselle Melanie is a Parisian, I presume?" asked Maurice,
more because it seemed polite to say something, than from any interest
in the answer to his question.
"Could she be anything else?" replied Madame de Fleury, with enthusiasm.
"Could a being gifted with such wondrous taste have been born out of
Paris? She is a _protegée_ of Vignon's; and, when I was exiled,
Mademoiselle Melanie came to America with me. She instantly became
known. There is a Mr. Hilson here, to whom she probably brought letters,
for he has taken the deepest interest in trumpeting her fame. She has
created a perfect furor."
"Hilson?" repeated Maurice, musingly. "A gentleman of that name visited
Brittany before I left. I wonder if it can be the same person."
"Very likely, for he has been abroad. I have heard him mention Brittany.
Well, this Mr. Hilson was so infatuated with--hush! That is a ring!"
While Madame de Fleury listened in breathless expectation, Lurline
opened the door and announced, "The dress of madame has arrived!"
"Ah! at last! at last! What happiness! I am saved, when I had almost
given up all hope! Monsieur de Gramont, you will excuse me! _Au
revoir!_"
Before Maurice could utter his congratulations upon the advent of the
dress, she had glided out of the room.