6841 (#221) ###########################################
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and had opened, very much opened; the criminal shoulders were
within reach of M.
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6841
and had opened, very much opened; the criminal shoulders were
within reach of M.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v12 - Gre to Hen
The prince had never
been in a second-tier box, so the second-tier boxes did not exist.
While Madame Caron was marvelously singing the marvelous
phrase of Reyer, "Ô mon sauveur silencieux, la Valkyrie est ta
conquête," the prince strolled along the passages of the opera.
Who was that blonde? He wanted to know, and he would.
know.
·
And suddenly he remembered that good Madame Picard was
the box-opener of the Sainte Mesmes, and that he, Prince of
Nérins, had had the honor of being for a long time a friend of
that good Madame Picard.
XII-428
## p. 6834 (#214) ###########################################
6834
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"Ah, prince," said Madame Picard on seeing Agénor, "there
is no one for you to-night in my boxes. Madame de Simiane is
not here, and Madame de Sainte Mesme has rented her box. "
Don't you know the people in Madame
"That's precisely it.
de Sainte Mesme's box?
"Not at all, prince.
the marquise's box. "
It's the first time I have seen them in
"Then you have no idea-»
"None, prince. Only to me they don't appear to be people
of — »
She was going to say of our set. A box-opener of the first
tier of boxes at the opera, having generally only to do with
absolutely high-born people, considers herself as being a little of
their set, and shows extreme disdain for unimportant people; it
displeases her to receive these unimportant people in her boxes.
Madame Picard however had tact which rarely forsook her, and
so stopped herself in time to say:
"People of your set. They belong to the middle class, to the
wealthy middle class; but still the middle class. That doesn't
satisfy you; you wish to know more on account of the blonde.
Is it not so, prince? "
Those last words were spoken with rare delicacy; they were
murmured more than spoken-box-opener to prince! It would
have been unacceptable without that perfect reserve in accent
and tone; yes, it was a box-opener who spoke, but a box-opener
who was a little bit the aunt of former times, the aunt à la
mode de Cythère. Madame Picard continued:-
no
"Ah, she is a beauty! She came with a little dark man - her
husband, I'm sure; for while she was taking off her cloak — it
always takes some time he didn't say a word to her:
eagerness, no little attentions - yes, he could only be a husband.
I examined the cloak: people one doesn't know puzzle me and
my colleague; Madame Flachet and I always amuse ourselves by
trying to guess from appearances. Well, the cloak comes from a
good dressmaker, but not from a great one; it is fine and well
made, but it has no style. I think they are middle-class people,
prince. But how stupid I am! You know M. Palmer-well, a
little while ago he came to see the beautiful blonde! "
"M. Palmer? "
"Yes, and he can tell you. "
"Thanks, Madame Picard, thanks. "
―――――
## p. 6835 (#215) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6835
"Good-by, prince, good-by," and Madame Picard went back to
her stool, near her colleague Madame Flachet, and said to her:
"Ah, my dear, what a charming man the prince is! True
gentlefolks, there is nothing like them! But they are dying out,
they are dying out; there are many less than formerly. "
Prince Agénor was willing to do Palmer-big Palmer, rich
Palmer, vain Palmer-the honor of being one of his friends; he
deigned, and very frequently, to confide to Palmer his financial
difficulties, and the banker was delighted to come to his aid.
The prince had been obliged to resign himself to becoming a
member of two boards of directors presided over by Palmer, who
was much pleased at having under obligations to him the repre-
sentative of one of the noblest families in France. Besides, the
prince proved himself to be a good prince, and publicly acknowl-
edged Palmer, showing himself in his box, taking charge of his
entertainments, and occupying himself with his racing stable. He
had even pushed his gratitude to the point of compromising
Madame Palmer in the most showy way.
"I am removing her from the middle class," he said; "I owe
it to Palmer, who is one of the best fellows in the world. "
The prince found the banker alone in a lower box.
"What is the name. - the name of that blonde in the Sainte
Mesmes' box? "
"Madame Derline. "
"Is there a M. Derline ? »
"Certainly; a lawyer-my lawyer, the Sainte Mesmes' lawyer.
And if you want to see Madame Derline close to, come to my
ball next Thursday. She will be there. "
The wife of a lawyer! she was only the wife of a lawyer!
The prince sat down in the front of the box opposite Madame
Derline, and while looking at that lawyeress he was thinking.
"Have I," he said to himself, "sufficient credit, sufficient power,
to make of Madame Derline the most beautiful woman in Paris? "
For there was always a most beautiful woman in Paris, and it
was he, Prince Agénor, who flattered himself that he could dis-
cover, proclaim, crown, and consecrate that most beautiful woman
in Paris. Launch Madame Derline in society! Why not? He
had never launched any one from the middle class. The enter-
prise would be new, amusing, and bold. He looked at Madame
Derline through his opera-glass, and discovered thousands of beau-
ties and perfections in her delightful face.
## p. 6836 (#216) ###########################################
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LUDOVIC HALÉVY
After the opera, the prince, during the exit, placed himself at
the bottom of the great staircase. He had enlisted two of his
friends. "Come," he had said to them, "I will show you the
most beautiful woman in Paris. " While he was speaking, two
steps away from the prince was an alert young man who was
attached to a morning paper, a very widely read paper. The
young man had sharp ears; he caught on the fly the phrase of
the Prince Agénor, whose high social position he knew; he suc
ceeded in keeping close to the prince, and when Madame Der-
line passed, the young reporter had the luck of hearing the
conversation, without losing a word, of the three brilliant noble-
men. A quarter of an hour later he arrived at the office of the
paper.
"Is there time," he asked, "to write a dozen lines in the
Society Notebook ? »
"Yes, but hurry. "
The young man was a quick writer; the fifteen lines were
done in the twinkling of an eye. They brought seven francs
fifty to the reporter, but cost M. Derline a little more than that.
During this time Prince Agénor, seated in the club at the
whist table, was saying, while shuffling the cards:-
"This evening at the opera there was a marvelous woman, a
certain Madame Derline. She is the most beautiful woman in
Paris! "
The following morning, in the gossip-corner of the Bois, in
the spring sunshine, the prince, surrounded by a little group of
respectful disciples, was solemnly delivering from the back of his
roan mare the following opinion:-
"Listen well to what I say. The most beautiful woman in
Paris is a certain Madame Derline. This star will be visible
Thursday evening at the Palmers'. Go, and don't forget the
name-Madame Derline. "
The disciples dispersed, and went abroad spreading the great
news.
Madame Derline had been admirably brought up by an irre-
proachable mother; she had been taught that she ought to get
up in the morning, keep a strict account of her expenses, not go
to a great dressmaker, believe in God, love her husband, visit
the poor, and never spend but half her income, in order to pre-
pare dowries for her daughters. Madame Derline performed all
these duties. She led a peaceful and serene life in the old
## p. 6837 (#217) ###########################################
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6837
house (in the Rue Dragon) which had sheltered, since 1825, three
generations of Derlines; the husbands had all three been lawyers,
the wives had all three been virtuous. The three generations
had passed there a happy and moderate life, never having any
great pleasures, but also never being very much bored.
The next day Madame Derline awoke at eight o'clock in the
morning with an uneasy feeling. She had passed a troubled
night - she, who usually slept like a child. The evening before,
in the box at the opera, Madame Derline had vaguely felt that
something was going on around her. And during the entire last
act, an opera-glass obstinately fixed on her- the prince's opera-
glass had thrown her into a certain agitation, though not a
disagreeable one. She had worn a low dress-too low, in her
mother's opinion; and two or three times, under the fixity of
that opera-glass, she had raised the shoulder-straps of her dress.
So, after opening her eyes, Madame Derline re-closed them
lazily, indolently, with thoughts floating between dreamland and
reality. She again saw the opera-house, and a hundred, two
hundred, five hundred opera-glasses obstinately ixed on her—on
her alone.
The maid entered, placed a tray on a little table, made up a
big fire in the fireplace, and went away. There was a cup of
chocolate and the morning paper on the tray, the same as every
morning. Then Madame Derline courageously got up, slipped
her little bare feet into fur slippers, wrapped herself in a white
cashmere dressing-gown, and crouched shivering in an arm-chair
by the fire. She sipped the chocolate, and slightly burned her-
self; she must wait a little while. She put down the cup, took
up the paper, unfolded it, and rapidly ran her eye over the six
columns of the front page. At the bottom, quite at the bottom
of the sixth column, were the following lines:-
"Last evening at the opera there was a very brilliant performance
of Sigurd. ' Society was well represented there; the beautiful
Duchess of Montaiglon, the pretty Countess Verdinière of Lardac, the
marvelous Marquise of Muriel, the lively Baroness of —”
To read the name of the baroness it was necessary to turn
the page.
Madame Derline did not turn it; she was thinking,
reflecting. The evening before, she had amused herself by hav-
ing Palmer point out to her the social leaders in the house, and
## p. 6838 (#218) ###########################################
6838
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
it so happened that the banker had pointed out to her the mar-
velous marquise. And Madame Derline - who was twenty-two-
raised herself a little to look in the glass. She exchanged a
slight smile with a young blonde, who was very pink-and-white.
"Ah," she said to herself, "if I were a marquise the man
who wrote this would perhaps have paid some attention to me,
and my name would perhaps be there. I wonder if it's fun to
see one's name printed in a paper? "
And while addressing this question to herself, she turned the
page, and continued reading:-
"the lively Baroness of Myrvoix, etc. We have to announce the
appearance of a new star which has abruptly burst forth in the Paris-
ian constellation. The house was in ecstasy over a strange and dis-
turbing blonde, whose dark steel eyes, and whose shoulders — ah,
what shoulders! The shoulders were the event of the evening. From
all quarters one heard asked, "Who is she? "-"Who is she? "-"To
whom do those divine shoulders belong? "-"To whom? » We know,
and our readers will doubtless thank us for telling them the name of
this ideal wonder. It is Madame Derline. »
Her name! She had read her name! She was dazzled. Her
eyes clouded. All the letters in the alphabet began to dance
wildly on the paper. Then they calmed down, stopped, and
regained their places. She was able to find her name, and con-
tinue reading:-
"It is Madame Derline, the wife of one of the richest and most
agreeable lawyers in Paris. The Prince of Nérins, whose word has so
much weight in such matters, said yesterday evening to every one
who would listen, "She is the most beautiful woman in Paris. " We
are absolutely of that opinion. "
A single paragraph, and that was all. It was enough,- it was
too much! Madame Derline was seized with a feeling of inde-
finable confusion. It was a combination of fear and pleasure, of
joy and trouble, of satisfied vanity and wounded modesty. Her
dressing-gown was a little open; she folded it over with a sort
of violence, and crossed it upon her feet, abruptly drawn back
towards the arm-chair. She had a feeling of nudity. It seemed
to her that all Paris was there in her room, and that the Prince
de Nérins was in front saying to all Paris, "Look, look! She is
the most beautiful woman in Paris! "
## p. 6839 (#219) ###########################################
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6839
The Prince of Nérins! She knew the name well, for she read
with keen interest in the papers all the articles entitled 'Parisian
Life, High Life,' 'Society Echoes,' etc. ; and all the society
columns signed "Mousseline," "Fanfreluche," "Brimborion," "Vé-
loutine"; all the accounts of great marriages, great balls, of great
comings-out, and of great charity sales. The name of the prince
often figured in these articles, and he was always quoted as
supreme arbiter of Parisian elegances.
And it was he who had declared-ah! decidedly pleasure
got the better of fear. Still trembling with emotion, Madame
Derline went and placed herself before a long looking-glass, an
old cheval-glass from Jacob's, which never till now had reflected
other than good middle-class women married to good lawyers.
In that glass she looked at herself, examined herself, studied
herself,-long, curiously, and eagerly. Of course she knew she
was pretty, but oh, the power of print! she found herself abso-
lutely delightful. She was no longer Madame Derline; she was
the most beautiful woman in Paris! Her feet, her little feet-
their bareness no longer troubled her-left the ground. She
raised herself gently towards the heavens, towards the clouds,
and felt herself become a goddess.
But suddenly an anxiety seized her. "Edward! what would
Edward say? " Edward was her husband. There had been but
one man's surname in her life-her husband's. The lawyer was
well loved! And almost at the same moment when she was
asking herself what Edward would say, Edward abruptly opened
the door.
He was a little out of breath. He had run up-stairs two at
a time. He was peacefully rummaging among old papers in his
study on the ground-floor when one of his brother lawyers-with
forced congratulations, however,- had made him read the famous
article. He had soon got rid of his brother lawyer, and he had
come, much irritated, to his room. At first there was simply a
torrent of words.
"Why do these journalists meddle? It's an outrage! Your
name— look, there is your name in this paper! "
"Yes, I know, I've seen — »
"Ah, you know, you have seen - and you think it quite
natural!
>>
"But, dear-
"What times do we live in? It's your fault, too. "
»
:
## p. 6840 (#220) ###########################################
6840
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"My fault! "
"Yes, your fault!
"And how? "
"Your dress last night was too low, much too low. Besides,
your mother told you so- »
"Oh, mamma — »
"You needn't say 'Oh, mamma! ' Your mother was right.
There, read: And whose shoulders-ah, what shoulders! ' And
it is of your shoulders they are speaking. And that prince who
dares to award you a prize for beauty! "
The good man had plebeian, Gothic ideas - the ideas of a
lawyer of old times, of a lawyer of the Rue Dragon; the lawyers
of the Boulevard Malesherbes are no longer like that.
Madame Derline very gently, very quietly, brought the rebel
back to reason. Of course there was charm and eloquence in
her speech, but how much more charm and eloquence in the
tenderness of her glance and smile!
Why this great rage and despair? He was accused of being
the husband of the most beautiful woman in Paris. Was that
such a horrible thing, such a terrible misfortune? And who was
the brother lawyer, the good brother lawyer, who had taken
pleasure in coming to show him the hateful article?
"M. Renaud. "
"Oh, it was M. Renaud-dear M. Renaud! "
Thereupon Madame Derline was seized with a hearty fit of
laughter; so much so that the blond hair, which had been loosely
done up, came down and framed the pretty face from which
gleamed the dark eyes, which could also, when they gave them-
selves the trouble, look very gentle, very caressing, very loving.
"Oh, it was M. Renaud, the husband of that delightful Ma-
dame Renaud! Well, do you know what you will do immediately,
without losing a minute? go to the president of the Tribunal
and ask for a divorce. You will say to him: M. Aubépin, de-
liver me from my wife. Her crime is being pretty, very pretty,
too pretty. I wish another one who is ugly, very ugly, who has
Madame Renaud's large nose, colossal foot, pointed chin, skinny
shoulders, and eternal pimples. ' That's what you want, isn't it?
Come, you big stupid, kiss your poor wife, and forgive her for
not being a monster. "
As rather lively gestures had illustrated this little speech, the
white cashmere dressing-gown had slipped-slipped a good deal,
## p.
6841 (#221) ###########################################
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6841
and had opened, very much opened; the criminal shoulders were
within reach of M. Derline's lips-he succumbed. Besides, he
too felt the abominable influence of the press. His wife had
never seemed so pretty to him; and brought back to subjection,
M. Derline returned to his study in order to make money for
the most beautiful woman in Paris.
A very wise and opportune occupation; for scarcely was Ma-
dame Derline left alone when an idea flashed through her head
which was to call forth a very pretty collection of bank-notes
from the cash-box of the lawyer of the Rue Dragon. Madame
Derline had intended wearing to the Palmers' ball a dress which
had already been much seen. Madame Derline had kept the
dressmaker of her wedding dress, her mother's dressmaker, a
dressmaker of the Left Bank. It seemed to her that her new
position imposed new duties on her. She could not appear at
the Palmers' without a dress which had not been seen, and one
stamped with a well-known name. She ordered the carriage in
the afternoon, and resolutely gave her coachman the address of
one of the most illustrious dressmakers in Paris. She arrived a
little agitated, and to reach the great artist was obliged to pass
through a veritable crowd of footmen, who were in the ante-
chamber chatting and laughing, used to meeting there and mak-
ing long stops. Nearly all the footmen were those of society,
the highest society; they had spent the previous evening together
at the English Embassy, and were to be that evening at the
Duchess of Grémoille's.
Madame Derline entered a sumptuous parlor; it was very
sumptuous, too sumptuous. Twenty great customers were there,
-society women and actresses, all agitated, anxious, feverish,-
looking at the beautiful tall saleswomen come and go before
them, wearing the last creations of the master of the house.
The great artist had a diplomatic bearing: buttoned-up black
frock-coat, long cravat with pin (a present from a Royal Highness
who paid her bills slowly), and a many-colored rosette in his
buttonhole (the gift of a small reigning prince who paid slower
yet the bills of an opera-dancer). He came and went-precise,
calm, and cool-in the midst of the solicitations and supplica-
tions of his customers. "M. Arthur! M. Arthur! " One heard
nothing but that phrase; he was M. Arthur. He went from
one to the other-respectful without too much humility to the
duchesses, and easy without too much familiarity to the actresses.
AND
A
## p. 6842 (#222) ###########################################
6842
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
There was an extraordinary liveliness, and a confusion of mar-
velous velvets, satins, and embroidered, brocaded, and gold- or
silver-threaded stuffs, all thrown here and there as though by
accident - but what science in that accident! -on arm-chairs,
tables, and divans.
In the first place Madame Derline ran against a shop-girl
who was bearing with outstretched arms a white dress, and was
almost hidden beneath a light mountain of muslins and laces.
The only thing visible was the shop-girl's mussed black hair and
sly suburban expression. Madame Derline backed away, wish-
ing to place herself against the wall; but a tryer-on was there,
a large energetic brunette, who spoke authoritatively in a high
staccato. "At once," she was saying, "bring me at once the
princess's dress! »
Frightened and dazed, Madame Derline stood in a corner and
watched an opportunity to seize a saleswoman on the fly. She
even thought of giving up the game. Never, certainly, should
she dare to address directly that terrible M. Arthur, who had
just given her a rapid glance in which she believed to have
read, "Who is she? She isn't properly dressed! She doesn't go
to a fashionable dressmaker! " At last Madame Derline suc-
ceeded in getting hold of a disengaged saleswoman, and there
was the same slightly disdainful glance-a glance which was
accompanied by the phrase-
"Madame is not a regular customer of the house? "
-
"No, I am not a customer—”
"And you wish? "
"A dress, a ball-dress, and I want the dress for next Thurs-
day evening-»
"Thursday next? "
"Yes, Thursday next. "
"O madame, it is not to be thought of! Even for a cus-
tomer of the house it would be impossible. "
"But I wished it so much—»
"Go and see M. Arthur.
"And where is M. Arthur? "
"In his office. He has just gone into his office.
madame, opposite. "
He alone can >>>>
Over there,
Madame Derline, through a half-open door, saw a sombre and
severe but luxurious room--an ambassador's office. On the walls
the great European powers were represented by photographs-
## p. 6843 (#223) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6843
the Empress Eugénie, the Princess of Wales, a grand-duchess of
Russia, and an archduchess of Austria. M. Arthur was there
taking a few moments' rest, seated in a large arm-chair, with an
air of lassitude and exhaustion, and with a newspaper spread out
over his knees. He arose on seeing Madame Derline enter. In
a trembling voice she repeated her wish.
"O madame, a ball-dress- a beautiful ball-dress-for Thurs-
day! I couldn't make such a promise; I couldn't keep it.
There are responsibilities to which I never expose myself. "
He spoke slowly, gravely, as a man conscious of his high
position.
-
"Oh, I am so disappointed. It was a particular occasion, and
I was told that you alone could-"
Two tears, two little tears, glittered on her eyelashes. M.
Arthur was moved. A woman, a pretty woman, crying there
before him! Never had such homage been paid to his genius.
"Well, madame, I am willing to make an attempt. A very
simple dress->
"Oh no, not simple. Very brilliant, on the contrary-every-
thing that is most brilliant. Two of my friends are customers
of yours" (she named them), "and I am Madame Derline-»
"Madame Derline! you are Madame Derline ? »
The two Madame Derlines were followed by a glance and a
smile the glance was at the newspaper and the smile was at
Madame Derline; but it was a discreet, self-contained smile, the
smile of a perfectly gallant man. This is what the glance and
smile said with admirable clearness:
-
"Ah! you are Madame Derline, that already celebrated Ma-
dame Derline, who yesterday at the opera - I understand, I
understand - I was reading just now in this paper: words are
no longer necessary; you should have told your name at once.
Yes, you need me; yes, you shall have your dress; yes, I want to
divide your success with you. "
M. Arthur called:
"Mademoiselle Blanche, come here at once!
Mademoiselle
Blanche! "
And turning towards Madame Derline, he said:-
"She has great talent, but I shall myself superintend it; so be
easy-yes, I myself. "
Madame Derline was a little confused, a little embarrassed by
her glory, but happy nevertheless. Mademoiselle Blanche came
forward.
-
## p. 6844 (#224) ###########################################
6844
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"Conduct madame," said M. Arthur, "and take the necessary
measures for a ball-dress, very low, and with absolutely bare
arms. During that time, madame, I am going to think seriously
of what I can do for you. It must be something entirely new-
ah! before going, permit me-"
He walked very slowly around Madame Derline, and exam-
ined her with profound attention; then he walked away, and
considered her from a little distance. His face was serious,
thoughtful, and anxious: a great thinker wrestling with a great
problem. He passed his hand over his forehead, raised his eyes
to the sky, getting inspiration by a painful delivery; but sud-
denly his face lit up-the spirit from above had answered.
"Go, madame," he said, "go. Your dress is thought out.
When you come back, mademoiselle, bring me that piece of pink
satin; you know, the one that I was keeping for some great
occasion. ”
Thus Madame Derline found herself with Mademoiselle
Blanche in a trying-on room, which was a sort of little cabin
lined with mirrors. A quarter of an hour later, when the meas-
ures had been taken, Madame Derline came back and discovered
M. Arthur in the midst of pieces of satin of all colors, of crêpes,
of tulles, of laces, and of brocaded stuffs.
"No, no, not the pink satin," he said to Mademoiselle Blanche,
who was bringing the asked-for piece; "no, I have found some-
thing better. Listen to me. This is what I wish; I have given
up the pink, and I have decided on this, this peach-colored satin:
a classic robe, outlining all the fine lines and showing the sup-
pleness of the body. This robe must be very clinging-hardly
any underskirts. It must be of surah. Madame must be melted
into it-do you thoroughly understand? -absolutely melted into
the robe. We will drop over the dress this crêpe - yes, that one,
but in small, light pleats. The crêpe will be as a cloud thrown
over the dress-a transparent, vapory, impalpable cloud. The
arms are to be absolutely bare, as I already told you. On each
shoulder there must be a simple knot, showing the upper part
of the arm. Of what is the knot to be? I'm still undecided;
I need to think it over-till to-morrow, madame, till to-morrow. "
Madame Derline came back the next day, and the next, and
every day till the day before the famous Thursday; and each
time that she came back, while awaiting her turn to try on, she
ordered dresses, very simple ones, but yet costing from seven to
eight hundred francs each.
## p. 6845 (#225) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6845
And that was not all. On the day of her first visit to M.
Arthur, when Madame Derline came out of the great house she
was broken-hearted-positively broken-hearted-at the sight of
her brougham: it really did make a pitiful appearance among all
the stylish carriages which were waiting in three rows and taking
up half the street. It was the brougham of her late mother-
in-law, and it still rolled through the streets of Paris after fif-
teen years' service. Madame Derline got into the woe-begone
brougham to drive straight to a very well-known carriage-maker,
and that evening, cleverly seizing the psychological moment, she
explained to M. Derline that she had seen a certain little black
coupé lined with blue satin that would frame delightfully her new
dresses.
The coupé was bought the next day by M. Derline, who also
was beginning fully to realize the extent of his new duties. But
the next day it was discovered that it was impossible to harness
to that jewel of a coupé the old horse who had pulled the old
carriage, and no less impossible to put on the box the old coach-
man who drove the old horse.
This is how on Thursday, April 25th, at half-past ten in the
evening, a very pretty chestnut mare, driven by a very correct
English coachman, took M. and Madame Derline to the Palmers'.
They still lacked something-a little groom to sit beside the
English coachman. But a certain amount of discretion had to be
employed. The most beautiful woman in Paris intended to wait
ten days before asking for the little groom.
While she was going up-stairs at the Palmers', she distinctly
felt her heart beat like the strokes of a hammer. She was going
to play a decisive game. She knew that the Palmers had been
going everywhere, saying, "Come on Thursday: we will show
you Madame Derline, the most beautiful woman in Paris. "
Curiosity as well as jealousy had been well awakened.
She entered, and from the first minute she had the delicious
sensation of her success. Throughout the long gallery of the
Palmers' house it was a true triumphal march. She advanced
with firm and precise step, erect, and head well held.
She ap-
peared to see nothing, to hear nothing, but how well she saw!
how well she felt the fire of all those eyes on her shoulders!
Around her arose a little murmur of admiration, and never had
music been sweeter to her.
Yes, decidedly, all went well. She was on a fair way to con-
quer Paris. And, sure of herself, at each step she became more
## p. 6846 (#226) ###########################################
6846
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
k
confident, lighter, and bolder, as she advanced on the arm of
Palmer, who in passing pointed out the counts, the marquises,
and the dukes. And then Palmer suddenly said to her:—
"I want to present to you one of your greatest admirers, who
the other night at the opera spoke of nothing but your beauty;
he is the Prince of Nérins. "
She became as red as a cherry. Palmer looked at her and
began to laugh.
"Ah, you read the other day in that paper-? "
"I read - yes, I read -»
"But where is the prince, where is he? I saw him during
the day, and he was to be here early. "
Madame Derline was not to see the Prince of Nérins that
evening. And yet he had intended to go to the Palmers' and
preside at the deification of his lawyeress. He had dined at the
club, and had allowed himself to be dragged off to a first per-
formance at a minor theatre. An operetta of the regulation type
was being played. The principal personage was a young queen,
who was always escorted by the customary four maids of honor.
Three of these young ladies were very well known to first-
nighters, as having already figured in the tableaux of operettas
and in groups of fairies, but the fourth-oh, the fourth! She
was a new one, a tall brunette of the most striking beauty. The
prince made himself remarked more than all others by his enthu-
siasm. He completely forgot that he was to leave after the first
act. The play was over very late, and the prince was still there,
having paid no attention to the piece or the music, having seen
nothing but the wonderful brunette, having heard nothing but
the stanza which she had unworthily massacred in the middle of
the second act. And while they were leaving the theatre, the
prince was saying to whoever would listen:-
"That brunette! oh, that brunette! She hasn't an equal in
any theatre! She is the most beautiful woman in Paris! the
most beautiful! "
—
It was one o'clock in the morning. The prince asked himself
if he should go to the Palmers'. Poor Madame Derline: she was
of very slight importance beside this new wonder! And then,
too, the prince was a methodical man. The hour for whist had
arrived; so he departed to play whist.
The following morning Madame Derline found ten lines on
the Palmers' ball in the "society column. " There was mention
of the marquises, the countesses, and the duchesses who were
## p. 6847 (#227) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6847
there, but about Madame Derline there was not a word-not a
word.
On the other hand, the writer of theatrical gossip celebrated
in enthusiastic terms the beauty of that ideal maid of honor, and
said, "Besides, the Prince of Nérins declared that Mademoiselle
Miranda was indisputably the most beautiful woman in Paris! »
Madame Derline threw the paper into the fire. She did not
wish her husband to know that she was already not the most
beautiful woman in Paris.
She has however kept the great dressmaker and the English
coachman, but she has never dared to ask for the little groom.
## p. 6848 (#228) ###########################################
6848
THOMAS C. HALIBURTON
(1796-1865)
N 1835 there appeared in a Nova-Scotian journal a series of
articles satirizing the New England character, as expressed
in the person of Sam Slick, a Yankee clock-peddler. Within
a few weeks these had become so popular that they were republished
in book form, the little duodecimo volume called The Clockmaker,
or the Sayings and Doings of Samuel Slick of Slickville,' being read
by all classes of people. Indeed, the popularity of this skit wholly
obscured the importance of the author's more serious work as a histo-
rian and publicist. Thomas C. Haliburton,
the inventor of this famous Yankee char-
acter, was born in Windsor, Nova Scotia,
1796, educated in his native town, and called
to the bar there in 1820. Eight years later
he was appointed Chief Justice of Com-
mon Pleas, and presently transferred to the
Supreme Court, in which he sat until 1856,
when he removed to England, where he
died in 1865.
While his historical work is not import-
ant, his History of Nova Scotia' has done
more to make Acadia known to the out-
side world than any other work except
'Evangeline,' and Longfellow acknowledged
himself much indebted to Haliburton for material. His Bubbles of
Canada' and 'Rule and Misrule of the English in America,' dealing
with political situations of importance in his time, and his half-dozen
other books, are now forgotten. It is as a humorist only that he is
remembered.
T. C. HALIBURTON
Of his Sam Slick' Professor Felton of Harvard wrote: "We can
distinguish the real from the counterfeit Yankee at the first sound of
the voice, and by the turn of a single sentence: and we have no hesi-
tation in declaring that Sam Slick is not what he pretends to be;
that there is no organic life in him; that he is an impostor, an im-
possibility, a nonentity. " The London Athenæum, on the other hand,
pronounced that "he [the clockmaker] deserves to be entered on our
list of friends containing the names of Tristram Shandy, the shep-
herd of the 'Noctes Ambrosianæ,' and other rhapsodical discoursers on
## p. 6849 (#229) ###########################################
THOMAS C. HALIBURTON
6849
time and change, who besides the delight of their discourse possess
also the charm of individuality. "
Farcical as is his delineation of the shrewd, conceited, bragging,
cozening, hard-working, garrulous Yankee, little as he admires the
institutions that produced this type of citizen, it is plain that Judge
Haliburton uses the clockmaker and his kind to point the moral
against the dullness, lack of enterprise, laziness, and provincial shift-
lessness of the Nova-Scotians. He means to sting his fellow-country-
men into effort and action if he can. Whether the book really served
for admonition and correction, whether the Yankee clock really struck
the hour for the "Bluenose" awakening, as its author fondly believed,
at least he created the conventional Yankee of general acceptation,-
the lank, awkward figure, ill articulated and ill dressed, with trousers
and coat-sleeves too short, with hat too large, with hair too long, with
sharp nose, keen eyes, shrewd smile, with flattened vowels and nasal
tones, with queer vocabulary and queerer syntax-in short, the Yankee
of the stage, of caricature, of tradition, universally believed in
(at least across the seas) until Lowell's genius revealed the true New-
Englander in Hosea Biglow. Even as a Pretender, therefore, Sam
Slick has his important place in the Republic of Letters, -a place the
more important as interest in him becomes more and more merely
historic.
MR. SAMUEL SLICK
From The Clockmaker. Copyright 1871, by Hurd & Houghton. Reprinted
by permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , publishers, Boston
I
HAD heard of Yankee clock-peddlers, tin-peddlers, and Bible-
peddlers, especially of him who sold Polyglot Bibles (all in
English) to the amount of sixteen thousand pounds. The
house of every substantial farmer had three substantial orna-
ments: a wooden clock, a tin reflector, and a Polyglot Bible.
How is it that an American can sell his wares at whatever price
he pleases, where a Bluenose would fail to make a sale at all?
I will inquire of the Clockmaker the secret of his success.
been in a second-tier box, so the second-tier boxes did not exist.
While Madame Caron was marvelously singing the marvelous
phrase of Reyer, "Ô mon sauveur silencieux, la Valkyrie est ta
conquête," the prince strolled along the passages of the opera.
Who was that blonde? He wanted to know, and he would.
know.
·
And suddenly he remembered that good Madame Picard was
the box-opener of the Sainte Mesmes, and that he, Prince of
Nérins, had had the honor of being for a long time a friend of
that good Madame Picard.
XII-428
## p. 6834 (#214) ###########################################
6834
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"Ah, prince," said Madame Picard on seeing Agénor, "there
is no one for you to-night in my boxes. Madame de Simiane is
not here, and Madame de Sainte Mesme has rented her box. "
Don't you know the people in Madame
"That's precisely it.
de Sainte Mesme's box?
"Not at all, prince.
the marquise's box. "
It's the first time I have seen them in
"Then you have no idea-»
"None, prince. Only to me they don't appear to be people
of — »
She was going to say of our set. A box-opener of the first
tier of boxes at the opera, having generally only to do with
absolutely high-born people, considers herself as being a little of
their set, and shows extreme disdain for unimportant people; it
displeases her to receive these unimportant people in her boxes.
Madame Picard however had tact which rarely forsook her, and
so stopped herself in time to say:
"People of your set. They belong to the middle class, to the
wealthy middle class; but still the middle class. That doesn't
satisfy you; you wish to know more on account of the blonde.
Is it not so, prince? "
Those last words were spoken with rare delicacy; they were
murmured more than spoken-box-opener to prince! It would
have been unacceptable without that perfect reserve in accent
and tone; yes, it was a box-opener who spoke, but a box-opener
who was a little bit the aunt of former times, the aunt à la
mode de Cythère. Madame Picard continued:-
no
"Ah, she is a beauty! She came with a little dark man - her
husband, I'm sure; for while she was taking off her cloak — it
always takes some time he didn't say a word to her:
eagerness, no little attentions - yes, he could only be a husband.
I examined the cloak: people one doesn't know puzzle me and
my colleague; Madame Flachet and I always amuse ourselves by
trying to guess from appearances. Well, the cloak comes from a
good dressmaker, but not from a great one; it is fine and well
made, but it has no style. I think they are middle-class people,
prince. But how stupid I am! You know M. Palmer-well, a
little while ago he came to see the beautiful blonde! "
"M. Palmer? "
"Yes, and he can tell you. "
"Thanks, Madame Picard, thanks. "
―――――
## p. 6835 (#215) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6835
"Good-by, prince, good-by," and Madame Picard went back to
her stool, near her colleague Madame Flachet, and said to her:
"Ah, my dear, what a charming man the prince is! True
gentlefolks, there is nothing like them! But they are dying out,
they are dying out; there are many less than formerly. "
Prince Agénor was willing to do Palmer-big Palmer, rich
Palmer, vain Palmer-the honor of being one of his friends; he
deigned, and very frequently, to confide to Palmer his financial
difficulties, and the banker was delighted to come to his aid.
The prince had been obliged to resign himself to becoming a
member of two boards of directors presided over by Palmer, who
was much pleased at having under obligations to him the repre-
sentative of one of the noblest families in France. Besides, the
prince proved himself to be a good prince, and publicly acknowl-
edged Palmer, showing himself in his box, taking charge of his
entertainments, and occupying himself with his racing stable. He
had even pushed his gratitude to the point of compromising
Madame Palmer in the most showy way.
"I am removing her from the middle class," he said; "I owe
it to Palmer, who is one of the best fellows in the world. "
The prince found the banker alone in a lower box.
"What is the name. - the name of that blonde in the Sainte
Mesmes' box? "
"Madame Derline. "
"Is there a M. Derline ? »
"Certainly; a lawyer-my lawyer, the Sainte Mesmes' lawyer.
And if you want to see Madame Derline close to, come to my
ball next Thursday. She will be there. "
The wife of a lawyer! she was only the wife of a lawyer!
The prince sat down in the front of the box opposite Madame
Derline, and while looking at that lawyeress he was thinking.
"Have I," he said to himself, "sufficient credit, sufficient power,
to make of Madame Derline the most beautiful woman in Paris? "
For there was always a most beautiful woman in Paris, and it
was he, Prince Agénor, who flattered himself that he could dis-
cover, proclaim, crown, and consecrate that most beautiful woman
in Paris. Launch Madame Derline in society! Why not? He
had never launched any one from the middle class. The enter-
prise would be new, amusing, and bold. He looked at Madame
Derline through his opera-glass, and discovered thousands of beau-
ties and perfections in her delightful face.
## p. 6836 (#216) ###########################################
6836
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
After the opera, the prince, during the exit, placed himself at
the bottom of the great staircase. He had enlisted two of his
friends. "Come," he had said to them, "I will show you the
most beautiful woman in Paris. " While he was speaking, two
steps away from the prince was an alert young man who was
attached to a morning paper, a very widely read paper. The
young man had sharp ears; he caught on the fly the phrase of
the Prince Agénor, whose high social position he knew; he suc
ceeded in keeping close to the prince, and when Madame Der-
line passed, the young reporter had the luck of hearing the
conversation, without losing a word, of the three brilliant noble-
men. A quarter of an hour later he arrived at the office of the
paper.
"Is there time," he asked, "to write a dozen lines in the
Society Notebook ? »
"Yes, but hurry. "
The young man was a quick writer; the fifteen lines were
done in the twinkling of an eye. They brought seven francs
fifty to the reporter, but cost M. Derline a little more than that.
During this time Prince Agénor, seated in the club at the
whist table, was saying, while shuffling the cards:-
"This evening at the opera there was a marvelous woman, a
certain Madame Derline. She is the most beautiful woman in
Paris! "
The following morning, in the gossip-corner of the Bois, in
the spring sunshine, the prince, surrounded by a little group of
respectful disciples, was solemnly delivering from the back of his
roan mare the following opinion:-
"Listen well to what I say. The most beautiful woman in
Paris is a certain Madame Derline. This star will be visible
Thursday evening at the Palmers'. Go, and don't forget the
name-Madame Derline. "
The disciples dispersed, and went abroad spreading the great
news.
Madame Derline had been admirably brought up by an irre-
proachable mother; she had been taught that she ought to get
up in the morning, keep a strict account of her expenses, not go
to a great dressmaker, believe in God, love her husband, visit
the poor, and never spend but half her income, in order to pre-
pare dowries for her daughters. Madame Derline performed all
these duties. She led a peaceful and serene life in the old
## p. 6837 (#217) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6837
house (in the Rue Dragon) which had sheltered, since 1825, three
generations of Derlines; the husbands had all three been lawyers,
the wives had all three been virtuous. The three generations
had passed there a happy and moderate life, never having any
great pleasures, but also never being very much bored.
The next day Madame Derline awoke at eight o'clock in the
morning with an uneasy feeling. She had passed a troubled
night - she, who usually slept like a child. The evening before,
in the box at the opera, Madame Derline had vaguely felt that
something was going on around her. And during the entire last
act, an opera-glass obstinately fixed on her- the prince's opera-
glass had thrown her into a certain agitation, though not a
disagreeable one. She had worn a low dress-too low, in her
mother's opinion; and two or three times, under the fixity of
that opera-glass, she had raised the shoulder-straps of her dress.
So, after opening her eyes, Madame Derline re-closed them
lazily, indolently, with thoughts floating between dreamland and
reality. She again saw the opera-house, and a hundred, two
hundred, five hundred opera-glasses obstinately ixed on her—on
her alone.
The maid entered, placed a tray on a little table, made up a
big fire in the fireplace, and went away. There was a cup of
chocolate and the morning paper on the tray, the same as every
morning. Then Madame Derline courageously got up, slipped
her little bare feet into fur slippers, wrapped herself in a white
cashmere dressing-gown, and crouched shivering in an arm-chair
by the fire. She sipped the chocolate, and slightly burned her-
self; she must wait a little while. She put down the cup, took
up the paper, unfolded it, and rapidly ran her eye over the six
columns of the front page. At the bottom, quite at the bottom
of the sixth column, were the following lines:-
"Last evening at the opera there was a very brilliant performance
of Sigurd. ' Society was well represented there; the beautiful
Duchess of Montaiglon, the pretty Countess Verdinière of Lardac, the
marvelous Marquise of Muriel, the lively Baroness of —”
To read the name of the baroness it was necessary to turn
the page.
Madame Derline did not turn it; she was thinking,
reflecting. The evening before, she had amused herself by hav-
ing Palmer point out to her the social leaders in the house, and
## p. 6838 (#218) ###########################################
6838
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
it so happened that the banker had pointed out to her the mar-
velous marquise. And Madame Derline - who was twenty-two-
raised herself a little to look in the glass. She exchanged a
slight smile with a young blonde, who was very pink-and-white.
"Ah," she said to herself, "if I were a marquise the man
who wrote this would perhaps have paid some attention to me,
and my name would perhaps be there. I wonder if it's fun to
see one's name printed in a paper? "
And while addressing this question to herself, she turned the
page, and continued reading:-
"the lively Baroness of Myrvoix, etc. We have to announce the
appearance of a new star which has abruptly burst forth in the Paris-
ian constellation. The house was in ecstasy over a strange and dis-
turbing blonde, whose dark steel eyes, and whose shoulders — ah,
what shoulders! The shoulders were the event of the evening. From
all quarters one heard asked, "Who is she? "-"Who is she? "-"To
whom do those divine shoulders belong? "-"To whom? » We know,
and our readers will doubtless thank us for telling them the name of
this ideal wonder. It is Madame Derline. »
Her name! She had read her name! She was dazzled. Her
eyes clouded. All the letters in the alphabet began to dance
wildly on the paper. Then they calmed down, stopped, and
regained their places. She was able to find her name, and con-
tinue reading:-
"It is Madame Derline, the wife of one of the richest and most
agreeable lawyers in Paris. The Prince of Nérins, whose word has so
much weight in such matters, said yesterday evening to every one
who would listen, "She is the most beautiful woman in Paris. " We
are absolutely of that opinion. "
A single paragraph, and that was all. It was enough,- it was
too much! Madame Derline was seized with a feeling of inde-
finable confusion. It was a combination of fear and pleasure, of
joy and trouble, of satisfied vanity and wounded modesty. Her
dressing-gown was a little open; she folded it over with a sort
of violence, and crossed it upon her feet, abruptly drawn back
towards the arm-chair. She had a feeling of nudity. It seemed
to her that all Paris was there in her room, and that the Prince
de Nérins was in front saying to all Paris, "Look, look! She is
the most beautiful woman in Paris! "
## p. 6839 (#219) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6839
The Prince of Nérins! She knew the name well, for she read
with keen interest in the papers all the articles entitled 'Parisian
Life, High Life,' 'Society Echoes,' etc. ; and all the society
columns signed "Mousseline," "Fanfreluche," "Brimborion," "Vé-
loutine"; all the accounts of great marriages, great balls, of great
comings-out, and of great charity sales. The name of the prince
often figured in these articles, and he was always quoted as
supreme arbiter of Parisian elegances.
And it was he who had declared-ah! decidedly pleasure
got the better of fear. Still trembling with emotion, Madame
Derline went and placed herself before a long looking-glass, an
old cheval-glass from Jacob's, which never till now had reflected
other than good middle-class women married to good lawyers.
In that glass she looked at herself, examined herself, studied
herself,-long, curiously, and eagerly. Of course she knew she
was pretty, but oh, the power of print! she found herself abso-
lutely delightful. She was no longer Madame Derline; she was
the most beautiful woman in Paris! Her feet, her little feet-
their bareness no longer troubled her-left the ground. She
raised herself gently towards the heavens, towards the clouds,
and felt herself become a goddess.
But suddenly an anxiety seized her. "Edward! what would
Edward say? " Edward was her husband. There had been but
one man's surname in her life-her husband's. The lawyer was
well loved! And almost at the same moment when she was
asking herself what Edward would say, Edward abruptly opened
the door.
He was a little out of breath. He had run up-stairs two at
a time. He was peacefully rummaging among old papers in his
study on the ground-floor when one of his brother lawyers-with
forced congratulations, however,- had made him read the famous
article. He had soon got rid of his brother lawyer, and he had
come, much irritated, to his room. At first there was simply a
torrent of words.
"Why do these journalists meddle? It's an outrage! Your
name— look, there is your name in this paper! "
"Yes, I know, I've seen — »
"Ah, you know, you have seen - and you think it quite
natural!
>>
"But, dear-
"What times do we live in? It's your fault, too. "
»
:
## p. 6840 (#220) ###########################################
6840
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"My fault! "
"Yes, your fault!
"And how? "
"Your dress last night was too low, much too low. Besides,
your mother told you so- »
"Oh, mamma — »
"You needn't say 'Oh, mamma! ' Your mother was right.
There, read: And whose shoulders-ah, what shoulders! ' And
it is of your shoulders they are speaking. And that prince who
dares to award you a prize for beauty! "
The good man had plebeian, Gothic ideas - the ideas of a
lawyer of old times, of a lawyer of the Rue Dragon; the lawyers
of the Boulevard Malesherbes are no longer like that.
Madame Derline very gently, very quietly, brought the rebel
back to reason. Of course there was charm and eloquence in
her speech, but how much more charm and eloquence in the
tenderness of her glance and smile!
Why this great rage and despair? He was accused of being
the husband of the most beautiful woman in Paris. Was that
such a horrible thing, such a terrible misfortune? And who was
the brother lawyer, the good brother lawyer, who had taken
pleasure in coming to show him the hateful article?
"M. Renaud. "
"Oh, it was M. Renaud-dear M. Renaud! "
Thereupon Madame Derline was seized with a hearty fit of
laughter; so much so that the blond hair, which had been loosely
done up, came down and framed the pretty face from which
gleamed the dark eyes, which could also, when they gave them-
selves the trouble, look very gentle, very caressing, very loving.
"Oh, it was M. Renaud, the husband of that delightful Ma-
dame Renaud! Well, do you know what you will do immediately,
without losing a minute? go to the president of the Tribunal
and ask for a divorce. You will say to him: M. Aubépin, de-
liver me from my wife. Her crime is being pretty, very pretty,
too pretty. I wish another one who is ugly, very ugly, who has
Madame Renaud's large nose, colossal foot, pointed chin, skinny
shoulders, and eternal pimples. ' That's what you want, isn't it?
Come, you big stupid, kiss your poor wife, and forgive her for
not being a monster. "
As rather lively gestures had illustrated this little speech, the
white cashmere dressing-gown had slipped-slipped a good deal,
## p.
6841 (#221) ###########################################
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
6841
and had opened, very much opened; the criminal shoulders were
within reach of M. Derline's lips-he succumbed. Besides, he
too felt the abominable influence of the press. His wife had
never seemed so pretty to him; and brought back to subjection,
M. Derline returned to his study in order to make money for
the most beautiful woman in Paris.
A very wise and opportune occupation; for scarcely was Ma-
dame Derline left alone when an idea flashed through her head
which was to call forth a very pretty collection of bank-notes
from the cash-box of the lawyer of the Rue Dragon. Madame
Derline had intended wearing to the Palmers' ball a dress which
had already been much seen. Madame Derline had kept the
dressmaker of her wedding dress, her mother's dressmaker, a
dressmaker of the Left Bank. It seemed to her that her new
position imposed new duties on her. She could not appear at
the Palmers' without a dress which had not been seen, and one
stamped with a well-known name. She ordered the carriage in
the afternoon, and resolutely gave her coachman the address of
one of the most illustrious dressmakers in Paris. She arrived a
little agitated, and to reach the great artist was obliged to pass
through a veritable crowd of footmen, who were in the ante-
chamber chatting and laughing, used to meeting there and mak-
ing long stops. Nearly all the footmen were those of society,
the highest society; they had spent the previous evening together
at the English Embassy, and were to be that evening at the
Duchess of Grémoille's.
Madame Derline entered a sumptuous parlor; it was very
sumptuous, too sumptuous. Twenty great customers were there,
-society women and actresses, all agitated, anxious, feverish,-
looking at the beautiful tall saleswomen come and go before
them, wearing the last creations of the master of the house.
The great artist had a diplomatic bearing: buttoned-up black
frock-coat, long cravat with pin (a present from a Royal Highness
who paid her bills slowly), and a many-colored rosette in his
buttonhole (the gift of a small reigning prince who paid slower
yet the bills of an opera-dancer). He came and went-precise,
calm, and cool-in the midst of the solicitations and supplica-
tions of his customers. "M. Arthur! M. Arthur! " One heard
nothing but that phrase; he was M. Arthur. He went from
one to the other-respectful without too much humility to the
duchesses, and easy without too much familiarity to the actresses.
AND
A
## p. 6842 (#222) ###########################################
6842
LUDOVIC HALÉVY
There was an extraordinary liveliness, and a confusion of mar-
velous velvets, satins, and embroidered, brocaded, and gold- or
silver-threaded stuffs, all thrown here and there as though by
accident - but what science in that accident! -on arm-chairs,
tables, and divans.
In the first place Madame Derline ran against a shop-girl
who was bearing with outstretched arms a white dress, and was
almost hidden beneath a light mountain of muslins and laces.
The only thing visible was the shop-girl's mussed black hair and
sly suburban expression. Madame Derline backed away, wish-
ing to place herself against the wall; but a tryer-on was there,
a large energetic brunette, who spoke authoritatively in a high
staccato. "At once," she was saying, "bring me at once the
princess's dress! »
Frightened and dazed, Madame Derline stood in a corner and
watched an opportunity to seize a saleswoman on the fly. She
even thought of giving up the game. Never, certainly, should
she dare to address directly that terrible M. Arthur, who had
just given her a rapid glance in which she believed to have
read, "Who is she? She isn't properly dressed! She doesn't go
to a fashionable dressmaker! " At last Madame Derline suc-
ceeded in getting hold of a disengaged saleswoman, and there
was the same slightly disdainful glance-a glance which was
accompanied by the phrase-
"Madame is not a regular customer of the house? "
-
"No, I am not a customer—”
"And you wish? "
"A dress, a ball-dress, and I want the dress for next Thurs-
day evening-»
"Thursday next? "
"Yes, Thursday next. "
"O madame, it is not to be thought of! Even for a cus-
tomer of the house it would be impossible. "
"But I wished it so much—»
"Go and see M. Arthur.
"And where is M. Arthur? "
"In his office. He has just gone into his office.
madame, opposite. "
He alone can >>>>
Over there,
Madame Derline, through a half-open door, saw a sombre and
severe but luxurious room--an ambassador's office. On the walls
the great European powers were represented by photographs-
## p. 6843 (#223) ###########################################
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6843
the Empress Eugénie, the Princess of Wales, a grand-duchess of
Russia, and an archduchess of Austria. M. Arthur was there
taking a few moments' rest, seated in a large arm-chair, with an
air of lassitude and exhaustion, and with a newspaper spread out
over his knees. He arose on seeing Madame Derline enter. In
a trembling voice she repeated her wish.
"O madame, a ball-dress- a beautiful ball-dress-for Thurs-
day! I couldn't make such a promise; I couldn't keep it.
There are responsibilities to which I never expose myself. "
He spoke slowly, gravely, as a man conscious of his high
position.
-
"Oh, I am so disappointed. It was a particular occasion, and
I was told that you alone could-"
Two tears, two little tears, glittered on her eyelashes. M.
Arthur was moved. A woman, a pretty woman, crying there
before him! Never had such homage been paid to his genius.
"Well, madame, I am willing to make an attempt. A very
simple dress->
"Oh no, not simple. Very brilliant, on the contrary-every-
thing that is most brilliant. Two of my friends are customers
of yours" (she named them), "and I am Madame Derline-»
"Madame Derline! you are Madame Derline ? »
The two Madame Derlines were followed by a glance and a
smile the glance was at the newspaper and the smile was at
Madame Derline; but it was a discreet, self-contained smile, the
smile of a perfectly gallant man. This is what the glance and
smile said with admirable clearness:
-
"Ah! you are Madame Derline, that already celebrated Ma-
dame Derline, who yesterday at the opera - I understand, I
understand - I was reading just now in this paper: words are
no longer necessary; you should have told your name at once.
Yes, you need me; yes, you shall have your dress; yes, I want to
divide your success with you. "
M. Arthur called:
"Mademoiselle Blanche, come here at once!
Mademoiselle
Blanche! "
And turning towards Madame Derline, he said:-
"She has great talent, but I shall myself superintend it; so be
easy-yes, I myself. "
Madame Derline was a little confused, a little embarrassed by
her glory, but happy nevertheless. Mademoiselle Blanche came
forward.
-
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LUDOVIC HALÉVY
"Conduct madame," said M. Arthur, "and take the necessary
measures for a ball-dress, very low, and with absolutely bare
arms. During that time, madame, I am going to think seriously
of what I can do for you. It must be something entirely new-
ah! before going, permit me-"
He walked very slowly around Madame Derline, and exam-
ined her with profound attention; then he walked away, and
considered her from a little distance. His face was serious,
thoughtful, and anxious: a great thinker wrestling with a great
problem. He passed his hand over his forehead, raised his eyes
to the sky, getting inspiration by a painful delivery; but sud-
denly his face lit up-the spirit from above had answered.
"Go, madame," he said, "go. Your dress is thought out.
When you come back, mademoiselle, bring me that piece of pink
satin; you know, the one that I was keeping for some great
occasion. ”
Thus Madame Derline found herself with Mademoiselle
Blanche in a trying-on room, which was a sort of little cabin
lined with mirrors. A quarter of an hour later, when the meas-
ures had been taken, Madame Derline came back and discovered
M. Arthur in the midst of pieces of satin of all colors, of crêpes,
of tulles, of laces, and of brocaded stuffs.
"No, no, not the pink satin," he said to Mademoiselle Blanche,
who was bringing the asked-for piece; "no, I have found some-
thing better. Listen to me. This is what I wish; I have given
up the pink, and I have decided on this, this peach-colored satin:
a classic robe, outlining all the fine lines and showing the sup-
pleness of the body. This robe must be very clinging-hardly
any underskirts. It must be of surah. Madame must be melted
into it-do you thoroughly understand? -absolutely melted into
the robe. We will drop over the dress this crêpe - yes, that one,
but in small, light pleats. The crêpe will be as a cloud thrown
over the dress-a transparent, vapory, impalpable cloud. The
arms are to be absolutely bare, as I already told you. On each
shoulder there must be a simple knot, showing the upper part
of the arm. Of what is the knot to be? I'm still undecided;
I need to think it over-till to-morrow, madame, till to-morrow. "
Madame Derline came back the next day, and the next, and
every day till the day before the famous Thursday; and each
time that she came back, while awaiting her turn to try on, she
ordered dresses, very simple ones, but yet costing from seven to
eight hundred francs each.
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6845
And that was not all. On the day of her first visit to M.
Arthur, when Madame Derline came out of the great house she
was broken-hearted-positively broken-hearted-at the sight of
her brougham: it really did make a pitiful appearance among all
the stylish carriages which were waiting in three rows and taking
up half the street. It was the brougham of her late mother-
in-law, and it still rolled through the streets of Paris after fif-
teen years' service. Madame Derline got into the woe-begone
brougham to drive straight to a very well-known carriage-maker,
and that evening, cleverly seizing the psychological moment, she
explained to M. Derline that she had seen a certain little black
coupé lined with blue satin that would frame delightfully her new
dresses.
The coupé was bought the next day by M. Derline, who also
was beginning fully to realize the extent of his new duties. But
the next day it was discovered that it was impossible to harness
to that jewel of a coupé the old horse who had pulled the old
carriage, and no less impossible to put on the box the old coach-
man who drove the old horse.
This is how on Thursday, April 25th, at half-past ten in the
evening, a very pretty chestnut mare, driven by a very correct
English coachman, took M. and Madame Derline to the Palmers'.
They still lacked something-a little groom to sit beside the
English coachman. But a certain amount of discretion had to be
employed. The most beautiful woman in Paris intended to wait
ten days before asking for the little groom.
While she was going up-stairs at the Palmers', she distinctly
felt her heart beat like the strokes of a hammer. She was going
to play a decisive game. She knew that the Palmers had been
going everywhere, saying, "Come on Thursday: we will show
you Madame Derline, the most beautiful woman in Paris. "
Curiosity as well as jealousy had been well awakened.
She entered, and from the first minute she had the delicious
sensation of her success. Throughout the long gallery of the
Palmers' house it was a true triumphal march. She advanced
with firm and precise step, erect, and head well held.
She ap-
peared to see nothing, to hear nothing, but how well she saw!
how well she felt the fire of all those eyes on her shoulders!
Around her arose a little murmur of admiration, and never had
music been sweeter to her.
Yes, decidedly, all went well. She was on a fair way to con-
quer Paris. And, sure of herself, at each step she became more
## p. 6846 (#226) ###########################################
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LUDOVIC HALÉVY
k
confident, lighter, and bolder, as she advanced on the arm of
Palmer, who in passing pointed out the counts, the marquises,
and the dukes. And then Palmer suddenly said to her:—
"I want to present to you one of your greatest admirers, who
the other night at the opera spoke of nothing but your beauty;
he is the Prince of Nérins. "
She became as red as a cherry. Palmer looked at her and
began to laugh.
"Ah, you read the other day in that paper-? "
"I read - yes, I read -»
"But where is the prince, where is he? I saw him during
the day, and he was to be here early. "
Madame Derline was not to see the Prince of Nérins that
evening. And yet he had intended to go to the Palmers' and
preside at the deification of his lawyeress. He had dined at the
club, and had allowed himself to be dragged off to a first per-
formance at a minor theatre. An operetta of the regulation type
was being played. The principal personage was a young queen,
who was always escorted by the customary four maids of honor.
Three of these young ladies were very well known to first-
nighters, as having already figured in the tableaux of operettas
and in groups of fairies, but the fourth-oh, the fourth! She
was a new one, a tall brunette of the most striking beauty. The
prince made himself remarked more than all others by his enthu-
siasm. He completely forgot that he was to leave after the first
act. The play was over very late, and the prince was still there,
having paid no attention to the piece or the music, having seen
nothing but the wonderful brunette, having heard nothing but
the stanza which she had unworthily massacred in the middle of
the second act. And while they were leaving the theatre, the
prince was saying to whoever would listen:-
"That brunette! oh, that brunette! She hasn't an equal in
any theatre! She is the most beautiful woman in Paris! the
most beautiful! "
—
It was one o'clock in the morning. The prince asked himself
if he should go to the Palmers'. Poor Madame Derline: she was
of very slight importance beside this new wonder! And then,
too, the prince was a methodical man. The hour for whist had
arrived; so he departed to play whist.
The following morning Madame Derline found ten lines on
the Palmers' ball in the "society column. " There was mention
of the marquises, the countesses, and the duchesses who were
## p. 6847 (#227) ###########################################
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6847
there, but about Madame Derline there was not a word-not a
word.
On the other hand, the writer of theatrical gossip celebrated
in enthusiastic terms the beauty of that ideal maid of honor, and
said, "Besides, the Prince of Nérins declared that Mademoiselle
Miranda was indisputably the most beautiful woman in Paris! »
Madame Derline threw the paper into the fire. She did not
wish her husband to know that she was already not the most
beautiful woman in Paris.
She has however kept the great dressmaker and the English
coachman, but she has never dared to ask for the little groom.
## p. 6848 (#228) ###########################################
6848
THOMAS C. HALIBURTON
(1796-1865)
N 1835 there appeared in a Nova-Scotian journal a series of
articles satirizing the New England character, as expressed
in the person of Sam Slick, a Yankee clock-peddler. Within
a few weeks these had become so popular that they were republished
in book form, the little duodecimo volume called The Clockmaker,
or the Sayings and Doings of Samuel Slick of Slickville,' being read
by all classes of people. Indeed, the popularity of this skit wholly
obscured the importance of the author's more serious work as a histo-
rian and publicist. Thomas C. Haliburton,
the inventor of this famous Yankee char-
acter, was born in Windsor, Nova Scotia,
1796, educated in his native town, and called
to the bar there in 1820. Eight years later
he was appointed Chief Justice of Com-
mon Pleas, and presently transferred to the
Supreme Court, in which he sat until 1856,
when he removed to England, where he
died in 1865.
While his historical work is not import-
ant, his History of Nova Scotia' has done
more to make Acadia known to the out-
side world than any other work except
'Evangeline,' and Longfellow acknowledged
himself much indebted to Haliburton for material. His Bubbles of
Canada' and 'Rule and Misrule of the English in America,' dealing
with political situations of importance in his time, and his half-dozen
other books, are now forgotten. It is as a humorist only that he is
remembered.
T. C. HALIBURTON
Of his Sam Slick' Professor Felton of Harvard wrote: "We can
distinguish the real from the counterfeit Yankee at the first sound of
the voice, and by the turn of a single sentence: and we have no hesi-
tation in declaring that Sam Slick is not what he pretends to be;
that there is no organic life in him; that he is an impostor, an im-
possibility, a nonentity. " The London Athenæum, on the other hand,
pronounced that "he [the clockmaker] deserves to be entered on our
list of friends containing the names of Tristram Shandy, the shep-
herd of the 'Noctes Ambrosianæ,' and other rhapsodical discoursers on
## p. 6849 (#229) ###########################################
THOMAS C. HALIBURTON
6849
time and change, who besides the delight of their discourse possess
also the charm of individuality. "
Farcical as is his delineation of the shrewd, conceited, bragging,
cozening, hard-working, garrulous Yankee, little as he admires the
institutions that produced this type of citizen, it is plain that Judge
Haliburton uses the clockmaker and his kind to point the moral
against the dullness, lack of enterprise, laziness, and provincial shift-
lessness of the Nova-Scotians. He means to sting his fellow-country-
men into effort and action if he can. Whether the book really served
for admonition and correction, whether the Yankee clock really struck
the hour for the "Bluenose" awakening, as its author fondly believed,
at least he created the conventional Yankee of general acceptation,-
the lank, awkward figure, ill articulated and ill dressed, with trousers
and coat-sleeves too short, with hat too large, with hair too long, with
sharp nose, keen eyes, shrewd smile, with flattened vowels and nasal
tones, with queer vocabulary and queerer syntax-in short, the Yankee
of the stage, of caricature, of tradition, universally believed in
(at least across the seas) until Lowell's genius revealed the true New-
Englander in Hosea Biglow. Even as a Pretender, therefore, Sam
Slick has his important place in the Republic of Letters, -a place the
more important as interest in him becomes more and more merely
historic.
MR. SAMUEL SLICK
From The Clockmaker. Copyright 1871, by Hurd & Houghton. Reprinted
by permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , publishers, Boston
I
HAD heard of Yankee clock-peddlers, tin-peddlers, and Bible-
peddlers, especially of him who sold Polyglot Bibles (all in
English) to the amount of sixteen thousand pounds. The
house of every substantial farmer had three substantial orna-
ments: a wooden clock, a tin reflector, and a Polyglot Bible.
How is it that an American can sell his wares at whatever price
he pleases, where a Bluenose would fail to make a sale at all?
I will inquire of the Clockmaker the secret of his success.
