Fairy Fingers Part 41

CHAPTER XXIV.

FEMININE BELLIGERENTS.

Madeleine's residence was one of the most superb mansions in Was.h.i.+ngton: a s.p.a.cious 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 refres.h.i.+ng 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 _desagrement_ 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 circ.u.mstance 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 a.s.sistant, 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 cla.s.s had been thrown in her way. In reality, the cla.s.s 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 Was.h.i.+ngton _beau monde_, very naturally furnished a theme for the lively tongues of the needle-women. They picked up all the interesting items of fas.h.i.+onable 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 ent.i.tled 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 acc.u.mulated! 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 tr.i.m.m.i.n.g.

"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 a.s.sertion 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 amba.s.sadress 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 fas.h.i.+onable life which one _clique_ would not make known to another _clique_ for the world."

"But this t.i.ttle-tattle"--Esther began.

"Chut, chut," 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 a.s.serted, 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.