that sewed me
rested neither day nor night from Monday evening, January 24, 1870, to
Thursday morning, January 27th. The slashes of the scissors and the
pricks of the needle caused me great pain at first, but I soon paid no
attention to them at all. I began to observe what was going on, to
understand that I was becoming a dress, and to discover that the dress
would be a marvel. From time to time M. Worth came himself to pay me
little visits. "Take in the waist," he would say, "add more fringe,
spread out the train, enlarge the butterfly," etc.

One thing worried me: For whom was I intended? I knew the name, nothing
more--the Baroness Z----. Princess would have been better; but still,
baroness did very well. I was ambitious. I dreaded the theatre. It
remained to be seen whether this baroness was young, pretty, and equal
to wearing me boldly, and whether she had a figure to show me off to
advantage. I was horribly afraid of falling into the hands of an ugly
woman, a provincial, or an old coquette.

How perfectly reassured I was as soon as I saw the baroness! Small,
delicate, supple, stylish, a fairy waist, the shoulders of a goddess,
and, besides all this, a certain little air of audacity, of raillery,
but in exquisite moderation.

I was spread out on a large pearl-gray lounge, and I was received with
marks of frank admiration. M. Worth had been good enough to bring me
_himself_, and he didn't trouble himself about all dresses.

"How original!" exclaimed the little baroness; "how new! But very dear,
isn't it?"

"One thousand and fifty francs."

"One thousand and fifty francs! And I furnished the lace! Ah, how
quickly I should leave you if I didn't owe you so much! For I owe you a
lot of money."

"Oh, very little, baroness--very little."

"No, no; a great deal. But we will discuss that another day."

That evening I made my first appearance in society, and I came out at
the Tuileries. We both of us, the baroness and myself, had an undeniable
success. When the Empress crossed the Salon of Diana, making pleasant
remarks to the right and left, she had the graciousness to stop before
us and make the following remark, which seemed to me extremely witty,
"Ah, baroness, what a dress--what a dress! It's a dream!" On that
occasion the Empress wore a dress of white tulle dotted with silver, on
a design of cloudy green, with epaulettes of sable. It was queer, not
ineffective, but in doubtful taste.

We received much atte