e lorettes, and probably be able to win your
lawsuit. But it is quite impossible to present you anywhere with that
mop of Pyrenean hair; you look like a porcupine; and therefore we'll
take you close by, Place de la Bourse, to Marius, another of our
comedians--"

"Who is he?"

"I'll tell you his tale," said Bixiou. "In the year 1800 a Toulousian
named Cabot, a young wig-maker devoured by ambition, came to Paris, and
set up a shop (I use your slang). This man of genius,--he now has an
income of twenty-four thousand francs a year, and lives, retired from
business, at Libourne,--well, he saw that so vulgar and ignoble a name
as Cabot could never attain celebrity. Monsieur de Parny, whose hair he
cut, gave him the name of Marius, infinitely superior, you perceive, to
the Christian names of Armand and Hippolyte, behind which patronymics
attacked by the Cabot evil are wont to hide. All the successors of Cabot
have called themselves Marius. The present Marius is Marius V.; his real
name is Mongin. This occurs in various other trades; for 'Botot water,'
and for 'Little-Virtue' ink. Names become commercial property in Paris,
and have ended by constituting a sort of ensign of nobility. The present
Marius, who takes pupils, has created, he says, the leading school of
hair-dressing in the world.

"I've seen, in coming through France," said Gazonal, "a great many signs
bearing the words: 'Such a one, pupil of Marius.'"

"His pupils have to wash their hands after every head," said Bixiou;
"but Marius does not take them indifferently; they must have nice hands,
and not be ill-looking. The most remarkable for manners, appearance,
and elocution are sent out to dress heads; and they come back tired to
death. Marius himself never turns out except for titled women; he drives
his cabriolet and has a groom."

"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,