a queen, is baptized with a fantastic name, and carried through
Paris, France, and all Europe?"

"But," said Marie Antoinette, with comical pathos, "these coiffures
have, some of them, horrid names. We have, for example, the 'hog's
bristles coiffure,' the 'flea-bite coiffure,' the 'dying dog,' the
'flame of love,' 'modesty's cap,' a--"

"A queen's levee," interrupted the princess; "a love's nest of Marie
Antoinette. Yes, we have come to that pass that the fashions are
named after the queen, and all acquire a certain frivolous
character, so that all the men and all the honorable women of Paris
are in despair because the thoughts of their daughters, infected
with the millinery tastes of the queen and the court, shun all noble
thoughts, and only busy themselves with mere affairs of taste. I
have shown you, and you will not be able to deny it, madame, that
this decline in manners, which has been engendered by this love of
finery, proceeds from you, and from you alone; that not only your
love of finery is to blame, but also your coquetry, your joviality,
and these unheard-of indescribable orgies to which the Queen of
France surrenders herself, and to which she even allures her own
husband, the King of France, the oldest son of the Church."

"What does your highness mean?" asked the queen.

"Of what entertainments are you speaking?"

"I am speaking of the entertainments which are celebrated in
Trianon, to the perversion of all usage and all good manners. Of
those orgies in which the queen transforms herself into a