THE MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN (Complete Edition: Volumes 1-5). Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
well, countess; I have nothing to desire."
"I will write you my pledges, but first, the little letter to the king, which I beg to dictate. We will exchange the documents."
"That is fair," said the old fox, drawing the table toward her, and getting the pen and paper ready, as Lady Dubarry spoke.
"Sire: The happiness I feel at seeing your majesty's acceptance of my offer to present the Countess Dubarry at court——"
The pen stuck and spluttered.
"A bad pen; you should change it!"
"Never mind; it must be broken in."
"—emboldens me (the letter proceeded) to solicit your majesty's favorable eye when I appear at Versailles to-morrow under permission. I venture to hope for a kind welcome from my kinship to a house of which every head has shed his blood in the service of your august ancestors. Anastasie Euphramie Rodolphe, Countess of Bearn."
In return, the plotter handed over the notes and the order on her jewelry.
"Will you let me send my brother for you at three o'clock with the coach?"
"Just so."
"Mind you take care of yourself."
"Fear nothing. I am a noblewoman, and as you have my word, I will keep it to-morrow though I die for it."
So they parted, the old countess, lying down, going over her documents, and the young one lighter than she arrived, but with her heart aching at not having baffled the old litigant who easily defeated the king of France. In the main room, she perceived her brother, draining a second bottle of wine in order not to rouse suspicions on his reasons for staying in the inn. He jumped up and ran to her.
"How goes it?" he asked.
"As Marshal Saxe said to the king on showing him the field of Fontenoy: 'Sire, learn by this sight how dear and agonizing a victory is.'"
"But you have a patroness?"
"Yes, but she costs us a million! It is cruel; but I could not help myself. Mind how you handle her, or she may back out, or charge double her present price."
"What a woman! A Roman!"
"A Spartan. But bring her to Luciennes at three, for I shall not be easy till I have her under lock and key."
As the countess sprang into the coach, Jean watched her and muttered:
"By Crœsus, we cost France a nice round sum! It is highly flattering to the Dubarrys."
Chapter XXII.
At A Loss For Everything.
At eleven A. M., Lady Dubarry arrived at her house in Valois Street, determined to make Paris her starting-point for her march to Versailles. Lady Bearn was there, kept close when not under her eye, with the utmost art of the doctors trying to alleviate the pain of her burn.
From over night Jean and Chon and the waiting-woman had been at work and none who knew not the power of gold would have believed in the wonders they wrought in short time.
The hairdresser was engaged to come at six o'clock; the dress was a marvel on which twenty-six seamstresses were sewing the pearls, ribbons and trimmings, so that it would be done in time instead of taking a week as usual. At the same hour as the hairdresser, it would be on hand. As for the coach, the varnish was drying on it in a shed built to heat the air. The mob flocked to see it, a carriage superior to any the dauphiness had; with the Dubarry war-cry emblazoned on the panels: "Charge Onward!" palliated by doves billing and cooing on one side, and a heart transfixed with a dart on the other. The whole was enriched with the attributes of Cupid bows, quivers and the hymeneal torch. This coach was to be at the door at nine.
While the preparations were proceeding at the favorites' the news ran round the town.
Idle and indifferent as the Parisians pretend to be, they are fonder of novelty than any other people. Lady Dubarry in her regal coach paraded before the populace like an actress on the stage.
One is interested in those whose persons are known.
Everybody knew the beauty, as she was eager to show herself in the playhouse, on the promenade and in the stores, like all pretty, rich and young belles. Besides, she was known by her portraits, freaks, and the funny negro boy Zamore. People crowded the Palais Royal, not to see Rousseau play chess, worse luck to the philosophers! but to admire the lovely fairy in her fine dresses and gilded coach, which were so talked about.
Jean Dubarry's saying that "the Dubarrys cost the country a nice sum" was deep, and it was only fair that France who paid the bill, should see the show.
Jeanne knew that the French liked to be dazzled; she was more one of the nation than the queen, a Polander; and as she was kindly, she tried to get her money's worth in the display.
Instead of lying down for a rest as her brother suggested, she took a bath of milk for her complexion, and was ready by six for the hairdresser. A headdress for a lady to go to the court in was a building which took time, in those days. The operator had to be not only a man of art, but of patience. Alone among the craftsmen, hairdressers were allowed to wear the sword like gentlemen.
At six o'clock the court hairdresser, the great Lubin, had not arrived. Nor at a quarter past seven; the only hope was that, like all great men, Lubin was not going to be held cheap by coming punctually.
But a running-footman was sent to learn about him, and returned with the news that Lubin had left his house and would probably arrive shortly.
"There has been a block of vehicles on the way," explained the viscount.
"Plenty of time," said the countess. "I will try on my dress while awaiting him. Chon, fetch my dress."
"Your ladyship's sister went off ten minutes ago to get it," said Doris.
"Hark, to wheels!" interrupted Jean. "It is our coach."
No, it was Chon, with the news that the dressmaker, with two of her assistants, was just starting with the dress to try it on and finish fitting it. But she was a little anxious.
"Viscount," said the countess, "won't you send for the coach?"
"You are right, Jeanne. Take the new horses to Francian the coach-builder's," he ordered at the door, "and bring the new coach with them harnessed to it."
As the sound of the departing horses was still heard, Zamore trotted in with a letter.
"Buckra gemman give Zamore letter."
"What gentleman?"
"On horseback, at the door."
"Read it, dear, instead of questioning. I hope it is nothing untoward."
"Really, viscount, you are very silly to be so frightened," said the countess, but on opening the letter, she screamed and fell half dead on the lounge.
"No hairdresser! no dress! no coach!" she panted, while Chon rushed to her and Jean picked up the letter.
Thus it ran in a feminine handwriting:
"Be on your guard. You will have no hairdresser, dress or coach this evening. I hope you will get this in time. As I do not seek your gratitude, I do not name myself. If you know of a sincere friend, take that as me."
"This is the last straw," cried Jean in his rage. "By the Blue Moon, I must kill somebody! No hairdresser? I will scalp this Lubin. For it is half-past seven, and he has not turned up. Malediction!"
He was not going to court, so he did not hesitate to tear at his hair.
"The trouble is the dress," groaned Chon. "Hairdressers can be found anywhere."
The countess said nothing, but she heaved a sigh which