As usual, M. Orguelin submitted to his daughter's will, and it was determined that a quiet wedding should take place in a few days, to be followed on a later day by a magnificent fete in the house of the father-in-law.
"At which I shall certainly not be present," thought Count Rhedern, while he expressed his entire satisfaction with this arrangement.
Mademoiselle Orguelin's proudest wishes were about to be accomplished. She was to be introduced at court, and the queen-mother had graciously declared her intention of presenting her to the king at the approaching masquerade. There was now wanting but one thing, and that was a suitable costume for this important occasion, and Count Rhedern assured her, with a sigh, that it would be very difficult to prepare it, as it would be almost impossible to find a tailor who would undertake to make, in so short a time, the gold-brocaded train which was necessary.
"Pelissier, the new French tailor, has even refused to make a little cloak for me," said Count Rhedern, "and his female assistants,—who are the most fashionable dress-makers, have been deaf to all entreaties for the last week. They take no more orders for the masquerade, and it was only yesterday that I met Countess Hake, who had been with the pretty Blanche while I was with her father, descending the steps, wringing her hands and bathed in tears, because the proud dressmakers had replied to her prayers and entreaties with a cruel 'Impossible!'"
"I know, however, that M. Pricker, the court dressmaker of the two queens, would not make me this reply," said Caroline Orguelin, proudly, "but that he would make whatever is necessary even if he should be forced to take several additional assistants."
"Then let us drive to M. Pricker's," said her affianced, smiling; "but we must go at once, for we have no time to lose, and you can well imagine that I would be inconsolable if, after our marriage, I could not present you to the court as my wife on the first suitable occasion."
"Yes, we have no time to lose," repeated Caroline, ringing a bell and ordering her carriage. When, after a few minutes, Caroline Orguelin and the count were alone in the carriage, she turned to him with a mocking smile, and remarked: "The wedding is, then, to take place the day after to-morrow."
"Yes, my dearest Caroline, and on that day I will be the happiest of men."
"Your creditors," said she, shrugging her shoulders, "were then becoming so pressing that you suddenly experienced an ardent longing for my dowry."
"My creditors?" asked the count; "I do not understand you, dearest Caroline."