As he entered the drawing-room, Fifi, dressed in the yellow brocade, which looked more weird than ever by daylight, ran forward to meet him.
“How glad I am that you have come!” she cried. “I have something beautiful to show you. Look!”
She threw wide her bedroom door, and there, filling up half the large room, stood the gorgeous blue satin and gold bed.
Louis was stricken dumb. He had never seen such a machine before, but being a practical person he saw at a glance its costliness. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. However, Fifi remarked rapturously:
“It was made for the Empress, but the Emperor, thinking the price too much, refused to take it; and it was only five thousand francs, too!”
Then, running and exhibiting the lace, the gilt tassels and other paraphernalia of the bed, Fifi concluded with saying:
“Of course, I shan’t sleep in it—it’s much too fine. I don’t think it was ever meant to be slept in—but see—” Here Fifi raised the valance, and showed her own mattress, which she had substantial reasons for holding on to, “that’s what I shall sleep on! No one shall call me extravagant!”
Louis retreated to the drawing-room. Fifi followed him, shutting the door carefully after her.
Just then there was a commotion and a scuffle heard outside, in the lobby, and Angéline’s shrill voice raised high.
“That must be the monkeys!” cried Fifi, running out.