tiresome fine clothes are ever to
be banished," she murmured, twisting her wine-glass.

"Baroness, you have been reading the wicked Rousseau and his 'Social
Contract,'" de Blair, who sat next to her, bantered.

"It surely ought to cost something to be noble," pronounced the
Canoness, in whose convent every candidate was required to prove
sixteen quarterings of arms, and received the title of countess.

"Permit me to agree with the Church," laughed Mademoiselle de Richeval;
"we women ought to be as elaborate as possible, so as to frighten away
all those who are not rich enough to marry."

"I believe I could say, Miss," asserted d'Estaing, "that nevertheless
you yourself have brought to Fontainebleau at least twelve short dresses
and five pairs of low-heeled shoes."

"More than that--a straw hat and aprons," Cyrene added mischievously,
casting a smile also at Germain.

"Hold! hold!" de Blair cried. "This is certainly the revolution they say
is to come. We are returning rapidly to the State of Nature."

"Do I hear a phrase of that man Rousseau, ladies?" the Princess called
over, nodding her head-dress. "When I was little he was presented to me
at the Prince de Conti's, and had no breeding. Is that not true, Abbe?"

"You speak with your unvarying correctness, Madame la Princesse."

"You hear the Abbe, ladies," she said languidly, sitting back again.

D'Estaing, to change the subject, took up the name of the Prince de
Conti, and turning to the Canoness and Cyrene, told a story which he had
often heard of him.

"Madame de Bouillon, being with the Prince, hinted that she would like a
miniature of her linnet set in a ring. The Prince offered to have it
made. His offer was accepted on condition that the miniature be set
plain, without jewels. Accordingly the miniature is placed in a simple
rim of gold. But to cover over the painting, a large diamond, cut very
thin, is set above it. Madame returned the diamond. The Prince had it
ground to powder, which he used to dry the ink of the note he wrote to
Madame on the subject."

"There is a Prince!" cried Mademoiselle de Richeval.

"By the way, Montgolfier has sent up a new balloon which has carried
four passengers," went on the volatile d'Estaing.

"Who is this Montgolfier with his balloons?" the Princess asked
languidly. "Is he what the new coiffure is named after?"

D'Estaing looked around a little significantly.

"Precisely, Madame--the coiffure Montgolfier," Germ