"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),