Madeleine's residence was one of the most superb mansions in Washington: a spacious house, built of white stone, and located within a few minutes' walk of the capitol. She was in the habit of seeking the beautiful capitol-grounds every fine morning, before the busy city was astir, accompanied by Ruth Thornton. The matinal hour devoted to this refreshing walk was to both maidens the calmest and happiest of the twenty-four. In that peaceful hour they gained strength to encounter the petty vexations and dÉsagrÉment incident to the at once humble and important vocation they had adopted.

Buried deep in Madeleine's heart there was ever a sadness that could not be shaken off, but she turned the sunny side of her existence toward others, and kept the shadow of her great sorrow for herself alone; therefore her mien was ever tranquil, even cheerful. Possibly, she suffered less than many whose griefs were not so heavy, because her meek, uncomplaining spirit tempered the bleak wind that blew over her bowed head, and rounded the sharp stones that would have cut her feet on their pilgrimage, had they stepped less softly. Thus she carried within herself the magic that drew from waspish circumstance its sharpest sting.

The morning after Madeleine's rencontre with her relatives, a group of young women were sitting busily employed around a large table in Mademoiselle Melanie's workroom.

Mademoiselle Victorine, the forewoman, and Mademoiselle Clemence, her chief assistant, were the only foreigners. They had been in Vignon's employment, and had accompanied Madeleine to America. The other workwomen Madeleine had selected herself. Many of them were young girls, well born, and bred in luxury, who had been compelled by sudden reverses to earn a livelihood. Madeleine often wondered how so many of this class had been thrown in her way. In reality, the class is a frightfully numerous one, and she had an intuitive faculty of discovering those of whom it was composed. Not only did her instinctive sympathy attract her toward them, but Mr. Hilson, who was an active philanthropist, had been largely instrumental in pointing out young women who aspired to become self-helpers. Madeleine took an affectionate interest in teaching them a trade which almost rose to the dignity of a profession in her hands. She became their friend, adviser, and comforter, and thus experienced the delicious consolation of creating happiness for others after her own happiness had received its death-blow.

The room in which the busy needle-women were sitting, was the farthest of a suite of apartments opening into each other, on the second story. These apartments were somewhat lavishly furnished, but in the strictest good taste, and the eye was charmed by a profusion of choice plants blossoming in ornamental flower-vases, placed upon brackets on the wall; or of orchids floating in pendant luxuriance from baskets attached to the ceiling. Then, Madeleine had not forgotten the picturesque use so often made of the ivy in her native land, and had trained the obedient parasite to embower windows, or climb around frames of mirrors, until the gilt background gave but a golden glimmer through the dark-green network of leaves.

Each room was also supplied either with portfolios containing rare engravings, with musical instruments, or a library.

Rich dresses were displayed upon skeleton frames in one apartment; mantles and out-of-door wrappings were exhibited in another; bonnets and head-dresses were exposed to admiring view in a third.

Near the window, not far from the table which was surrounded by the sewing-women, stood a smaller table where Ruth was engaged, coloring designs for costumes.

The gossip of the Washington beau monde, very naturally furnished a theme for the lively tongues of the needle-women. They picked up all the interesting items of fashionable news that dropped from the lips of the many lady loungers who amused themselves by spending their mornings at Mademoiselle Melanie's exhibition-rooms, giving orders for dresses, bonnets, etc., examining new styles of apparel, discussing the most becoming modes, or idly chattering with acquaintances who visited Mademoiselle Melanie upon the same important mission as themselves.

Mademoiselle Victorine generally led the conversation at the working-table, or, rather, she usually monopolized it. It was a source of great exultation to her if she happened to have a piece of news to communicate; and this now chanced to be the case.

"Something very important is to take place in this house, probably this very day!" she began, with a consequential air. "If Mademoiselle Melanie has a fault, it is that she makes no confidants; and I think I am fully entitled to her confidence. I should like to know what she could have done without me?"

"What, indeed?" exclaimed several voices, for every one was anxious to propitiate the forewoman by bestowing upon her the flattery which was essential to keep her in an equable state of mind.

"When we think of the marvels," continued Mademoiselle Victorine, "that issue from these walls; the splendid figures that go forth into the world out of our creative hands,—figures, which, could they be seen when they rise in the morning, would not be recognizable,—we have cause for self-congratulation. And Mademoiselle Melanie gets all the credit for these metamorphoses; though, we all know, she does nothing herself; that is, she merely forms a plan, makes a sketch, selects certain colors, and that is all! The execution, the real work, is mine—mine! I appeal to you, young ladies, to say if it is not mine?"

"Yes, certainly," said Abby, one of the younger girls; "but without Mademoiselle Melanie's sketch, without her ideas, her taste, what would"—

"There—there; you talk too fast, Mademoiselle Abby; you are always chattering. I say that without me Mademoiselle Melanie would never have attained her present elevated position; without me this establishment would never have been what it now is,—a very California of dressmaking. And, in a little more than four years, what a fortune Mademoiselle Melanie has accumulated! That brings me back to the point from which I started. Does any one know what is to happen shortly?" she inquired, with an air of elation at being the only repository of a valuable secret.

"No—no—what is it?" asked numerous voices.

"Well, Mademoiselle Ruth, do you say nothing?" inquired the triumphant forewoman. "Are you not anxious to know?"

Ruth, without lifting her head from the sketch she was coloring, answered, "Yes, certainly, unless it should be something with which Mademoiselle Melanie does not desire us to be acquainted."

"Oh, hear the little saint!" returned Victorine. "She does not care for secrets,—no, of course not! She is only jealous that any one should know more than herself. She would not express surprise, not she, if I told her Mademoiselle Melanie is about to pay down ten thousand dollars—the last payment—upon the purchase of this house, which makes it hers."

Mademoiselle Victorine concluded with a violent shake of the brocade she was trimming.

"But did you learn this from good authority?" asked Esther, a slender, pale-faced girl.

"The very best. I heard Mrs. Hilson say so to some ladies whom she brought to introduce here; and you know Mr. Hilson transacts all business matters for Mademoiselle Melanie. Mrs. Hilson told her friends that Mademoiselle Melanie's establishment was a perfect mint and fairly coined money. When I heard this assertion I said to myself, 'How little people understand that without me Mademoiselle Melanie would never have founded an establishment that was compared to a mint—never!' Yet she gets all the credit."

"But you see"—began Esther.

Victorine interrupted her.

"What a chatterbox you are, Mademoiselle Esther! You will never get on with that work if you talk so much. Those festoons want spirit and grace; you must recommence them, or the dress will be a failure, I warn you! For whom is it? I have forgotten."

"It is Mrs. Gilmer's, and she expects to wear it at the grand ball to be given by the Marchioness de Fleury."

"She will be mistaken!" said Victorine. "I know that she will not be invited. The marchioness hates her; Mrs. Gilmer is the only rival whom Madame de Fleury takes the trouble to detest; and it makes me indignant to see a lady of her superlative fascinations annoyed by this little upstart American. One must admit that Mrs. Gilmer is very pretty; her figure scarcely needs help, and she is so vivacious, and has so much aplomb, so much dash, that the notice she attracts renders her alarmingly ambitious. Still, for her to dare to contrast herself with the French ambassadress is intolerable presumption, and I rejoice that she will get no invitation to the ball."

"How do you know that she will not be invited?" asked Esther.

"How do I know all that I do know? It is odd to notice with what perfect lack of reserve the ladies who visit us talk. They chatter away just as if they thought we were human working-machines, without ears, or brains, or memories. This singular hallucination makes it not difficult to become acquainted with certain secrets of fashionable life which one clique would not make known to another clique for the world."

"But this tittle-tattle"—Esther began.

"ChÛt, chÛt," cried the forewoman. "How you chatter, Mademoiselle Esther; one cannot hear one's self speak for you! Somebody has just entered the exhibition salon; who is it? Mrs. Gilmer, as I'm alive! M. de Bois is with her; she has come to try on her dress, I suppose. She may spare herself the pains, for she will not wear it at Madame de Fleury's ball."

Ruth, whose duty it was to receive visitors, and to summon Victorine, if they had orders to give, rose and entered the adjoining apartment.

Mrs. Gilmer was one of those light-headed and light-hearted women, who float upon the topmost and frothiest wave of society, herself a glittering bubble. To win admiration was the chief object of her life. The breath of flattery wafted her upward toward her heaven,—that rapturous state which was heaven to her. To be the belle of every reunion where she appeared was a triumph she could not forego; and there were no arts to which she would not stoop to obtain this victory. Madame de Fleury was a woman of the same stamp, but with all the polish, grace, and refined coquetry which the social atmosphere of Paris imparts; and though she had far less personal beauty than Mrs. Gilmer,—less mind, less wit,—her capacity for using all the charms she possessed gave her vast advantage over the fair-featured young American.

When Ruth entered the salon, Mrs. Gilmer was too much interested in her conversation with M. de Bois to notice her, and continued talking with as much freedom as though she was not present.

"I have set my heart upon it!" said she, "and I tell you I must receive an invitation to this ball. Madame de Fleury positively shall not exclude me. I have already set in motion a number of influential pulleys, and I am not apt to fail when I make an earnest attempt."

"I am quite aware of that," answered M. de Bois, gallantly.

"Oh, what a love of a dress! What an exquisite design!" exclaimed Mrs. Gilmer, stopping delighted before a robe which had been commenced, but was thrown over one of the manikins, with a sketch of the completed costume attached to the skirt. "The blending of those pale shades of green and that embroidery of golden wheat, with a scarlet poppy here and there,—the effect is superb! Then the style, as this sketch shows, is perfectly novel. I am enchanted! Miss Ruth, I must have that dress! At any price, I must have it!"

"It is to go to New Orleans, madame," replied Ruth. "It was ordered by Mrs. Senator la Motte, and is to be worn at some grand wedding."

"No matter—I tell you I must have it! Where is Mademoiselle Victorine?"

Ruth summoned the forewoman. Victorine advanced very deliberately, and her bearing had a touch of patronage and condescension.

Mrs. Gilmer pleaded hard for the possession of the dress; but Mademoiselle Victorine appeared to take the greatest satisfaction in making her understand that its becoming hers was an impossibility. The more earnestly Mrs. Gilmer prayed, the more inflexible became the forewoman. As for repeating a design which had been invented for one particular person, that, she asserted, was against all rules of art. The original design might be feebly, imperfectly copied by other mantua-makers, but its duplicate could not be sent forth from an establishment of the standing of Mademoiselle Melanie's.

Mrs. Gilmer, whose white brow was knitted with something very like a frown, remarked that she would talk to Mademoiselle Melanie on the subject, by and by.

"Mademoiselle Melanie does not usually reverse my decisions," replied the piqued forewoman, with an extravagant show of dignity.

"We shall see!" retorted Mrs. Gilmer. "Now let me choose a head-dress for the opera to-night; something original. What can you invent for me?"

"Really," answered Victorine, who was not a little irate at the suggestion that there could be any appeal from her verdict; "I do not feel inspired at this moment; I am quite dull; nothing occurs to me out of the usual line."

"Oh! you must think!" pleaded the volatile lady. "Invent me something never before seen; something with flowers will do; but let me have impossible flowers,—flowers which have no existence, and which I shall not behold upon every one's else head. Price is no object; my husband never refuses me anything! Especially," she added in a lower tone, to M. de Bois, "when he is jealous; and I find it very useful, absolutely necessary, to begin the season by exciting a series of Othello pangs through which he becomes manageable. I feed the jealous flame all winter, and add fresh fuel in the spring, when I wish to indulge in various extravagances."

"A very diplomatic arrangement," remarked M. de Bois.

"What a bonnet! What a beauty of a bonnet! what deliciously adjusted lace! How was it ever made to fall in such folds, over that bunch of moss roses; peeping out of those quivering leaves, touched with dew-drops?"

"That bonnet belongs to Madame de Fleury," said Victorine, with a malicious emphasis.

"Ah, indeed!" returned Mrs. Gilmer, changing color. "I wonder what would become of Madame de Fleury were it not for her toilets! If she were despoiled of her gay plumage, a very insipid, commonplace looking personage would remain. I must say, it is rather singular," she continued, growing warm in spite of herself, "but if I ever happen to look at anything particularly worth noticing, I am always told it is for Madame de Fleury! Is Mademoiselle Melanie in her drawing-room? Is she accessible at this moment?"

"She has just come in; Mademoiselle Ruth will conduct you to her," answered Victorine, with an offended air.

"M. de Bois, I will be back soon," said Mrs. Gilmer to her escort. "There are books in abundance in yonder library,—rather an extraordinary piece of furniture for a dressmaker's salon, but, Mademoiselle Melanie has so much tact, she foresaw that they might be useful on some occasions."

Mrs. Gilmer followed Ruth to Madeleine's own apartments, which were on the first floor. Victorine returned to the room where the sewing-women were at work. Gaston selected a book and seated himself in a comfortable arm-chair.

He had hardly opened the volume when the Marchioness de Fleury entered, accompanied by Lord Linden.

As she descended from the carriage she had found his lordship promenading up and down before the house. He was overjoyed at this unlooked-for opportunity to obtain admission.

Madame de Fleury saluted Gaston with one of her most gracious smiles.

Victorine, catching sight of the marchioness, hurried forward, saying to Ruth,—

"Do not trouble yourself, Mademoiselle Ruth, I will have the honor of attending upon Madame de Fleury."

"That is right, Mademoiselle Victorine; but I am going to intrude into your atelier of mysteries, and see what chef d'oeuvres you have in progress."

Judging from Madame de Fleury's tone, one might easily have supposed that she alluded to pictures or statues, and was about reverently to enter the studio of some mighty genius, and wonder over his achievements in marble or on canvas. The apartment she invaded was one which visitors were not usually invited, or expected, to enter.

The gentlemen were left together.

"I am in luck!" said Lord Linden in an unusually animated tone. "My dear M. de Bois, I am the happiest of men! I have encountered my unknown beauty at last! She passed me in a private carriage, which stopped here and was dismissed. I saw her enter this house not a quarter of an hour ago. She did not perceive me, and had disappeared before I could accost her; but I determined to keep watch until she made her exit, and then either to renew my acquaintance or to follow her home and learn where she lived. She shall not give me the slip again."

"Are you sure you have not made some mistake? I do not think there is any lady here, at this moment, except Mrs. Gilmer, whom I accompanied."

"I am perfectly certain I could not be mistaken. I shall make some excuse for remaining here; I will select a shawl or mantle for my sister, who is one of this celebrated Mademoiselle Melanie's customers, and who will not be displeased at such an unprecedented attention."

Before M. de Bois could reply, the marchioness returned with Victorine.

"And you say my dress for this evening will be done in an hour? That is delightful! I am impatient to test its effects. I am half inclined to wait until it is finished, and take it home with me."

"It shall be completed within the hour; I am occupied upon it myself," answered Victorine, with a fawning manner, very different from that by which the banker's wife had been kept in subjection.

"What an original idea!" cried Madame de Fleury, pausing before the uncompleted dress which had attracted the admiration of Mrs. Gilmer. "What an exquisite conception! Those blades of golden wheat and those scarlet poppies make the most perfect trimming for these ravishing shades of green; just the colors that become me most. That dress is a triumph, Mademoiselle Victorine!"

"The design is Mademoiselle Melanie's, but the cut, the execution, they are mine," said the forewoman, complacently.

"And for whom is the dress intended? But I need hardly ask,—I am determined that it shall be mine."

"It was to be sent to New Orleans to Madame la Motte, wife of the distinguished senator. But, I beg to assure madame that she cannot judge of this attire; it is nothing now. In a few days, when it is completed, then madame will be able to see that we have surpassed ourselves in that dress."

"You have, indeed!" ejaculated Madame de Fleury, with fervor. "But I claim it. You must invent something else for Madame la Motte. Mademoiselle Melanie surely will not refuse me."

"If the decision depended upon me, the dress would assuredly become Madame de Fleury's; although the design has been sent to Madame la Motte, and has met with her approbation; but Mademoiselle Melanie is so frightfully conscientious, she would not disappoint a customer, or break her word, or give a design promised one person to another for a kingdom. She is quite immovable, obstinately unreasonable on these points."

"But I must have that dress," persisted the marchioness. "I cannot be happy without it! I will implore Mademoiselle Melanie; she will drive me to despair should she refuse."

"Mrs. Gilmer saw it a few moments ago, and was so enchanted that she did her utmost to make me promise that the dress should be hers."

"Hers, indeed! That impertinent little parvenue!" replied Madame de Fleury. "I would never forgive Mademoiselle Melanie if she consented to anything of the kind. I suppose the banker's wife imagines this delicate green would tone down her milk-maid complexion. But she shall not try the experiment."

At this moment Mrs. Gilmer herself reËntered. The marchioness pretended not to be aware of her presence, and, turning to the dress in question, remarked,—

"Yes, this dress must be one of the twelve that I shall order to take with me to Maryland. Twelve will suffice for one week. I hear Mr. Meredith's estate could bear comparison with our European country residences; the toilets of his guests should do honor to their host." She went on, addressing herself to Gaston. "There are but thirty guests invited, and I hear that great indignation is felt by certain persons who are not included in the number."

Madame de Fleury's shaft was directed towards Mrs. Gilmer, who was writhing with vexation, at not forming one of the select party.

Mrs. Gilmer heard, and bit her lips with suppressed rage.

"Twelve dresses!" cried Lord Linden. "Twelve new dresses for seven days?"

"Quite a moderate supply; but I could not possibly get through the week with less," answered Madame de Fleury, serenely. "You are invited of course?"

Lord Linden replied in the affirmative.

"And you, M. de Bois?" inquired the marchioness innocently, though she was quite aware that he would repeat his lordship's answer, for she had been consulted in regard to the guests whom it would gratify her to meet.

Mrs. Gilmer, who was choking with vexation, sought revenge in one of those petty manoeuvres which women of the world thoroughly understand. She paused, in the most natural manner, before the hat which she had just extolled, and which she had been informed was designed for Madame de Fleury, and said aloud,—

"What a pretty bonnet! Admirably suited to hide the defects of an uncertain complexion, and hair of no color, neither light nor dark. It is not too gay or coquettish either; just the thing for a woman of thirty, who has begun to fade."

"I beg pardon, madame, it is intended for Madame de Fleury," answered Victorine, reprovingly, and not immediately comprehending the intentional spite of Mrs. Gilmer's remark.

"Indeed!" returned the latter, still speaking as though she had no suspicion of the presence of the marchioness; "will it not be rather young for her? It seems to me that these colors are a little too bright for a person of her age."

"Madame de Fleury is present, and may overhear you," whispered Victorine, warningly.

"Ah, indeed! I did not perceive her; much obliged to you for telling me, for she conceals her age so well that I would not mortify her by letting her suppose that I am aware of her advanced years," continued the malicious little lady in a very audible tone.

Madame de Fleury was, in reality, but twenty-five, and particularly sensitive on the subject of her age, or rather of her youth. She expected to be taken for twenty-two at the most, and had been furious when Mrs. Gilmer talked of her bonnet as suitable to a person of thirty; but when her spiteful rival had the audacity to suggest that Madame de Fleury had even passed that decisive period, she could scarcely contain her rage. By a sudden impulse she turned and faced the speaker. Both ladies made a profound courtesy, with countenances expressive of mortal hatred.

Lord Linden could not help whispering to Gaston, "Feminine belligerents! Those courtesies were exchanged after the manner that men exchange blows. It is very strange," he continued, looking about. "I do not see my fair incognita, though she certainly entered here. I fancy the marchioness intends to depart; I prefer to linger awhile. There are several salons yonder; I will steal off quietly and take refuge where I can watch who passes."

Lord Linden had hardly disappeared before the marchioness remarked to Victorine, "You said my dress would be ready in an hour, Mademoiselle Victorine? I will take a short drive and return in that time. Let Mademoiselle Melanie know that I particularly wish to have an interview with her. I must see her about that unfinished dress which certainly shall not go to New Orleans."

She courtesied once more very profoundly to Mrs. Gilmer and departed, quite forgetting Lord Linden, who was well pleased not to be missed.

"Mademoiselle Melanie will not be so unjust as to let Madame de Fleury have that dress after refusing it to me," observed Mrs. Gilmer tartly. "If she is, I never more"—

The threat was nipped in the bud, for she well knew no one could replace the sovereign modiste, and that the loss of Mrs. Gilmer's custom would not in the least affect Mademoiselle Melanie, who daily refused a crowd of applicants.

Recovering herself, the banker's wife concluded by saying, "Madame de Fleury is to return in an hour; very well; I will call somewhat later to learn Mademoiselle Melanie's decision. If the dress is not mine it certainly must not be Madame de Fleury's. We shall see if Mademoiselle Melanie's boasted justice is found wanting, or if she acts up to her professions."

M. de Bois conducted Mrs. Gilmer to her carriage, and returned to the salon; for he had an especial reason for desiring to see Madeleine; but, having called during the hours which she scrupulously devoted to her vocation, he did not feel at liberty to intrude in her private apartments.