"Then we will pay our friend, and wish him _le bon jour_." She
produced the fifty francs--two gold pieces, well sounding, for which
she had exchanged her silver and copper, and two five-franc pieces.
"And _voilà_," she added, putting down a franc for _pourboire_, "we
are very content with the artist."

The "Princess" stared at her, with a new admiration.

"_Merci bien_," said the _coiffeur_, fervently, as he counted the
cash. "Would that all customers' heads lent themselves so easily to
artistic treatment!"

"And when will my friend's wig be ready?" said the "Princess."

"Madame Valière! What are you saying there? Monsieur will set to work
when I bring him the fifty francs."

"_Mais non_, madame. I commence immediately. In a week it shall be
ready, and you shall only pay on delivery."

"You are very good. But I shall not need it yet--not till the
winter--when the snows come," said Madame Dépine, vaguely. "_Bon
jour_, monsieur;" and, thrusting the old wig on the new block, and
both under her shawl, she dragged the "Princess" out of the shop.
Then, looking back through the door, "Do not lose the measurement,
monsieur," she cried. "One of these days!"