"Lansquenet is another of the thousand facets of Paris as it is," said Leon. "And therefore, cousin, I intend to present you to-night in the salon of a duchess,--a duchess of the rue Saint-Georges, where you will see the aristocracy of the lorettes, and probably be able to win your lawsuit. But it is quite impossible to present you anywhere with that mop of Pyrenean hair; you look like a porcupine; and therefore we'll take you close by, Place de la Bourse, to Marius, another of our comedians--"
"Who is he?"
"I'll tell you his tale," said Bixiou. "In the year 1800 a Toulousian named Cabot, a young wig-maker devoured by ambition, came to Paris, and set up a shop (I use your slang). This man of genius,--he now has an income of twenty-four thousand francs a year, and lives, retired from business, at Libourne,--well, he saw that so vulgar and ignoble a name as Cabot could never attain celebrity. Monsieur de Parny, whose hair he cut, gave him the name of Marius, infinitely superior, you perceive, to the Christian names of Armand and Hippolyte, behind which patronymics attacked by the Cabot evil are wont to hide. All the successors of Cabot have called themselves Marius. The present Marius is Marius V.; his real name is Mongin. This occurs in various other trades; for 'Botot water,' and for 'Little-Virtue' ink. Names become commercial property in Paris, and have ended by constituting a sort of ensign of nobility. The present Marius, who takes pupils, has created, he says, the leading school of hair-dressing in the world.
"I've seen, in coming through France," said Gazonal, "a great many signs bearing the words: 'Such a one, pupil of Marius.'"
"His pupils have to wash their hands after every head," said Bixiou;
"but Marius does not take them indifferently; they must have nice hands, and not be ill-looking. The most remarkable for manners, appearance, and elocution are sent out to dress heads; and they come back tired to death. Marius himself never turns out except for titled women; he drives his cabriolet and has a groom."
"But, after all, he is nothing but a barber!" cried Gazonal, somewhat shocked.
"Barber!" exclaimed Bixiou; "please remember that he is captain in the National Guard, and is decorated for being the first to spring into a barricade in 1832."
"And take care what you say to him: he is neither barber, hair-dresser, nor wig-maker; he is a director of salons for hair-dressing," said Leon, as they went up a staircase with crystal balusters and mahogany rail, the steps of which were covered with a sumptuous carpet.
"Ah ca! mind you don't compromise us," said Bixiou. "In the antechamber you'll see lacqueys who will take off your coat, and seize your hat, to brush them; and they'll accompany you to the door of the salons to open and shut it. I mention this, friend Gazonal," added Bixiou, slyly, "lest you might think they were after your property, and cry 'Stop thief!'"
"These salons," said Leon, "are three boudoirs where the director has collected all the inventions of modern luxury: lambrequins to the windows, jardinieres everywhere, downy divans where each customer can wait his turn and read the newspapers. You might suppose, when you first go in, that five francs would be the least they'd get out of your waistcoat pocket; but nothing is ever extracted beyond ten sous for combing and frizzing your hair, or twenty sous for cutting and frizzing. Elegant dressing-tables stand about among the jardinieres; water is laid on to the washstands; enormous mirrors reproduce the whole figure. Therefore don't look astonished. When the client (that's the elegant word substituted by Marius for the ignoble word customer), --when the client appears at the door, Marius gives him a glance which appraises him: to Marius you are a HEAD, more or less susceptible of occupying his mind. To him there's no mankind; there are only heads."
"We let you hear Marius on all the notes of his scale," said Bixiou, "and you know how to follow our lead."
As soon as Gazonal showed himself, the glance was given, and was evidently favourable, for Marius exclaimed: "Regulus! yours this head!
Prepare it first with the little scissors."
"Excuse me," said Gazonal to the pupil, at a sign from Bixiou. "I prefer to have my head dressed by Monsieur Marius himself."
Marius, much flattered by this demand, advanced, leaving the head on which he was engaged.
"I am with you in a moment; I am just finishing. Pray have no uneasiness, my pupil will prepare you; I alone will decide the cut."
Marius, a slim little man, his hair frizzed like that of Rubini, and jet black, dressed also in black, with long white cuffs, and the frill of his shirt adorned with a diamond, now saw Bixiou, to whom he bowed as to a power the equal of his own.
"That is only an ordinary head," he said to Leon, pointing to the person on whom he was operating,--"a grocer, or something of that kind. But if we devoted ourselves to art only, we should lie in Bicetre, mad!" and he turned back with an inimitable gesture to his client, after saying to Regulus, "Prepare monsieur, he is evidently an artist."
"A journalist," said Bixiou.
Hearing that word, Marius gave two or three strokes of the comb to the ordinary head and flung himself upon Gazonal, taking Regulus by the arm at the instant that the pupil was about to begin the operation of the little scissors.
"I will take charge of monsieur. Look, monsieur," he said to the grocer, "reflect yourself in the great mirror--if the mirror permits.
Ossian!"
A lacquey entered, and took hold of the client to dress him.
"You pay at the desk, monsieur," said Marius to the stupefied grocer, who was pulling out his purse.
"Is there any use, my dear fellow," said Bixiou, "in going through this operation of the little scissors?"