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.