The Grey Wig: Stories and Novelettes Part 2

On the Day of the Dead Madame Depine emerged into importance, taking her friend with her to the Cemetery Montparna.s.se to see the gla.s.s flowers blooming immortally over the graves of her husband and children. Madame Depine paid the omnibus for both (inside places), and felt, for once, superior to the poor "Princess," who had never known the realities of love and death.

VII

Two months pa.s.sed. Another of Madame Valiere's teeth fell out. Madame Depine's cheeks grew more pendulous. But their brown wigs remained as fadeless as the cemetery flowers.

One day they pa.s.sed the hairdresser's shop together. It was indeed next to the tobacconist's, so not easy to avoid, whenever one wanted a stamp or a postcard. In the window, amid pendent plaits of divers hues, bloomed two wax busts of females--the one young and coquettish and golden-haired, the other aristocratic in a distinguished grey wig.

Both wore diamond rosettes in their hair and ropes of pearls round their necks. The old ladies' eyes met, then turned away.

"If one demanded the price!" said Madame Depine (who had already done so twice).

"It is an idea!" agreed Madame Valiere.

"The day will come when one's nieces will be married."

"But scarcely when New Year's Day shall cease to be," the "Princess"

sighed.

"Still, one might win in the lottery!"

"Ah! true. Let us enter, then."

"One will be enough. You go." Madame Depine rather dreaded the _coiffeur_, whom intercourse with jocose students had made severe.

But Madame Valiere shrank back shyly. "No, let us both go." She added, with a smile to cover her timidity, "Two heads are better than one."

"You are right. He will name a lower price in the hope of two orders."

And, pushing the "Princess" before her like a turret of defence, Madame Depine wheeled her into the ladies' department.

The _coiffeur_, who was washing the head of an American girl, looked up ungraciously. As he perceived the outer circ.u.mference of Madame Depine projecting on either side of her turret, he emitted a glacial "_Bon jour, mesdames._"

"Those grey wigs--" faltered Madame Valiere

"I have already told your friend." He rubbed the American head viciously.

Madame Depine coloured. "But--but we are two. Is there no reduction on taking a quant.i.ty?"

"And why then? A wig is a wig. Twice a hundred francs are two hundred francs."

"One hundred francs for a wig!" said Madame Valiere, paling. "I did not pay that for the one I wear."

"I well believe it, madame. A grey wig is not a brown wig."

"But you just said a wig is a wig."

The _coiffeur_ gave angry rubs at the head, in time with his explosive phrases. "You want real hair, I presume--and to your measure--and to look natural--and _convenable_!" (Both old ladies shuddered at the word.) "Of course, if you want it merely for private theatricals--"

"Private theatricals!" repeated Madame Depine, aghast.

"A _comedienne's_ wig I can sell you for a bagatelle. That pa.s.ses at a distance."

Madame Valiere ignored the suggestion. "But why should a grey wig cost more than any other?"

The _coiffeur_ shrugged his shoulders. "Since there are less grey hairs in the world--"

"_Comment!_" repeated Madame Valiere, in amazement.

"It stands to reason," said the _coiffeur_. "Since most persons do not live to be old--or only live to be bald." He grew animated, professorial almost, seeing the weight his words carried to unthinking bosoms. "And since one must provide a fine hair-net for a groundwork, to imitate the flesh-tint of the scalp, and since each hair of the parting must be treated separately, and since the natural wave of the hair must be reproduced, and since you will also need a block for it to stand on at nights to guard its shape--"

"But since one has already blocks," interposed Madame Depine.

"But since a conscientious artist cannot trust another's block!

Represent to yourself also that the shape of the head does not remain as fixed as the dome of the Invalides, and that--"

"_Eh bien_, we will think," interrupted Madame Valiere, with dignity.

VIII

They walked slowly towards the Hotel des Tourterelles.

"If one could share a wig!" Madame Depine exclaimed suddenly.

"It is an idea," replied Madame Valiere. And then each stared involuntarily at the other's head. They had shared so many things that this new possibility sounded like a discovery. Pleasing pictures flitted before their eyes--the country cousin received (on a Box and c.o.x basis) by a Parisian old gentlewoman _sans peur_ and _sans reproche_; a day of seclusion for each alternating with a day of ostentatious publicity.

But the light died out of their eyes, as Madame Depine recognised that the "Princess's" skull was hopelessly long, and Madame Valiere recognised that Madame Depine's cranium was hopelessly round.

Decidedly either head would be a bad block for the other's wig to repose on.

"It would be more sensible to acquire a wig together, and draw lots for it," said Madame Depine.

The "Princess's" eyes rekindled. "Yes, and then save up again to buy the loser a wig."

"_Parfaitement_" said Madame Depine. They had slid out of pretending that they had large sums immediately available. Certain sums still existed in vague stockings for dowries or presents, but these, of course, could not be touched. For practical purposes it was understood that neither had the advantage of the other, and that the few francs a month by which Madame Depine's income exceeded Madame Valiere's were neutralised by the superior rent she paid for her comparative immunity from steam-trams. The acc.u.mulation of fifty francs apiece was thus a limitless perspective.

They discussed their budget. It was really almost impossible to cut down anything. By incredible economies they saw their way to saving a franc a week each. But fifty weeks! A whole year, allowing for sickness and other breakdowns! Who can do penance for a whole year?

They thought of moving to an even cheaper hotel; but then in the course of years Madame Valiere had fallen three weeks behind with the rent, and Madame Depine a fortnight, and these arrears would have to be paid up. The first council ended in despair. But in the silence of the night Madame Depine had another inspiration. If one suppressed the lottery for a season!

On the average each speculated a full franc a week, with scarcely a gleam of encouragement. Two francs a week each--already the year becomes six months! For six months one can hold out. Hardships shared are halved, too. It will seem scarce three months. Ah, how good are the blessed saints!

But over the morning coffee Madame Valiere objected that they might win the whole hundred francs in a week!

It was true; it was heartbreaking.