The Grey Wig: Stories and Novelettes

Thus persuaded, the 'Princess' in her turn denuded herself of her wealth of wig, and Madame Depine watched with unsmiling satisfaction the stretchings of tape across the ungainly cranium.

'C'est bien,' she said. 'I return with your fifty francs on the instant.'

And having seen her 'Princess' safely ensconced in the attic, she rifled the stocking, and returned to the coiffeur.

When she emerged from the shop, the vindictive endurance had vanished from her face, and in its place reigned an angelic exaltation.

XII.

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!'

XIII.

The grey wig soon showed its dark side. Its possession, indeed, enabled Madame Valiere to loiter on the more lighted stairs, or dawdle in the hall with Madame la Proprietaire; but Madame Depine was not only debarred from these dignified domestic attitudes, but found a new awkwardness in bearing Madame Valiere company in their walks abroad. Instead of keeping each other in countenance-duoe contra mundum -they might now have served as an advertisement for the coiffeur and the convenable. Before the grey wig-after the grey wig.

Wherefore Madame Depine was not so very sorry when, after a few weeks of this discomforting contrast, the hour drew near of the 'Princess's' departure for the family wedding; especially as she was only losing her for two days. She had insisted, of course, that the savings for the second wig were not to commence till the return, so that Madame Valiere might carry with her a present worthy of her position and her port. They had anxious consultations over this present. Madame Depine was for a cheap but showy article from the Bon Marche; but Madame Valiere reminded her that the price-lists of this enterprising firm knocked at the doors of Tonnerre. Something distinguished (in silver) was her own idea. Madame Depine frequently wept during these discussions, reminded of her own wedding. Oh, the roundabouts at Robinson, and that delicious wedding-lunch up the tree! One was gay then, my dear.

At last they purchased a tiny metal Louis Quinze timepiece for eleven francs seventy-five centimes, congratulating themselves on the surplus of twenty-five centimes from their three weeks' savings. Madame Valiere packed it with her impedimenta into the carpet-bag lent her by Madame la Proprietaire. She was going by a night train from the Gare de Lyon, and sternly refused to let Madame Depine see her off.

'And how would you go back-an old woman, alone in these dark November nights, with the papers all full of crimes of violence? It is not convenable, either.'

Madame Depine yielded to the latter consideration; but as Madame Valiere, carrying the bulging carpet-bag, was crying 'La porte, s'il vous plait' to the concierge, she heard Madame Depine come tearing and puffing after her like the steam-tram, and, looking back, saw her breathlessly brandishing her gold brooch. 'Tiens!' she panted, fastening the 'Princess's' cloak with it. 'That will give thee an air.'

'But-it is too valuable. Thou must not.' They had never 'thou'd' each other before, and this enhanced the tremulousness of the moment.

'I do not give it thee,' Madame Depine laughed through her tears. 'Au revoir, mon amie.'