Though the sun poured down on the beautiful gardens, there was a sleepy, unawakened look about the place—an air of déshabille. The majority of the windows of the Hôtel de Paris were still closely shuttered, and the Paradise of Pleasure Seekers, as it has been somewhat cynically called, was now given over to the toilers whose lifework is to provide life-ease for others.
Dozens of gardeners were busily engaged in sweeping the paths of the embowered gardens, and in watering the brilliant, many-hued blossoms which compose the vast, carpet-like parterre in front of the Casino. Ant-like convoys of country folk, laden with vegetables, flowers, eggs, cheese, and so on, were moving slowly across the Grande Place.
Lily looked about her with curiosity and interest. The Monte Carlo of the foreigner and the gambler was still fast asleep. Was it likely that any of the smart shops would be open?
The Countess called out to the driver and the carriage stopped. Then, turning to Lily, she observed: “We will walk to the Galerie Charles Trois. I know a very good dressmaker there—as a matter of fact, she is connected with the Polda family, for her grandfather was steward to your Uncle Angelo’s grandfather. Her sister keeps an hotel in the Condamine.”
The Galerie Charles Trois, with its luxurious-looking, magnificent restaurants and elegant shops, also looked strangely deserted, though it was occupied by an army of dusters, sweepers, and window-washers. Several of the shops were shut, but still, many were open, and the two ladies walked slowly along, admiring the pretty things on view. What specially fascinated Aunt Cosy were the jewellers’ windows, and Lily had never seen such splendid gems or such gorgeous ornaments even in Bond Street or Regent Street.
All that makes of Monte Carlo a place absolutely apart seemed this morning more vividly real to the English girl than anything she had seen yet. Those for whom all these preparations were being made, and all these luxuries laid out, were still heavily asleep for the most part. But the army of men and women who ministered to their pleasure were all hard at work, for the most part with an air of anxiety and fatigue on their faces. Even the working folk of Monte Carlo do not go early to bed.
At last, when they were close to the end of the Galerie, the Countess exclaimed: “Here we are!” And Lily, looking up, saw a modest little shop, inscribed in gold letters, “Madame Jeanne.” In the window were displayed three simple-looking hats and a muslin gown, also a plain grey and white silk jumper, with regard to which, nevertheless, Lily told herself that it was one of the prettiest jumpers she had ever seen.
“Now, Lily,” said the Countess earnestly, “you may absolutely trust the taste of Madame Jeanne. She was première in a great Paris house before she started for herself; and though there may not seem to be much in the shop, what there is will be of the very finest quality; also, she will know what young girls are now wearing in Rome and Paris.” As she said those last words she walked into the shop, and a pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman came forward.
“Madame la Comtesse? This is indeed a pleasure!” she exclaimed effusively. “Why, it is more like years than months since last I had the pleasure of seeing Madame la Comtesse!”
“Yes, my good Jeanne,” said the Countess graciously. “It is indeed a long time since we met. But the Count went to your sister’s hotel only yesterday, and was able, I am glad to say, to do one of her clients a little service. I am bringing you to-day a good new customer! We want two or three pretty dresses, and we want them at once. As you see, Mademoiselle is in half-mourning, so we must only choose white and grey gowns, for mauve is not a young girl’s colour.”