"The character is lost！
Her head adorned with lappets， pinned aloft， And ribands streaming gay， superbly raised， Indebted to some smart wig-weaver's hand For more than half the tresses it sustains."--COWPER.
Upon her return to Paris， Victoire felt melancholy； but she exerted herself as much as possible in her usual occupation； finding that employment and the consciousness of doing her duty were the best remedies for sorrow.
One day as she was busy settling Madame Feuillot's accounts a servant came into the shop and inquired for Mademoiselle Victoire：
he presented her a note， which she found rather difficult to decipher. It was signed by her cousin Manon， who desired to see Victoire at her hotel. "HER HOTEL！" repeated Victoire with astonishment. The servant assured her that one of the finest hotels in Paris belonged to his lady， and that he was commissioned to show her the way to it. Victoire found her cousin in a magnificent house， which had formerly belonged to the Prince de Salms. Manon， dressed in the disgusting， indecent extreme of the mode， was seated under a richly-fringed canopy. She burst into a loud laugh as Victoire entered.
"You look just as much astonished as I expected，" cried she.
"Great changes have happened since I saw you last--I always told you， Victoire， I knew the world better than you did. What has come of all your schooling， and your mighty goodness， and your gratitude truly？ Your patroness is banished and a beggar， and you a drudge in the shop of a brodeuse， who makes you work your fingers to the bone， no doubt. Now you shall see the difference. Let me show you my house； you know it was formerly the hotel of the Prince de Salms， he that was guillotined the other day； but you know nothing， for you have been out of Paris this month， I understand. Then Imust tell you that my friend Villeneuf has acquired an immense fortune！ by assignats made in the course of a fortnight. I say an immense fortune！ and has bought this fine house. Now do you begin to understand？""I do not clearly know whom you mean by 'your friend Villeneuf，'"said Victoire.
"The hairdresser who lived in our street，" said Manon； "he became a great patriot， you know， and orator； and， what with his eloquence and his luck in dealing in assignats， he has made his fortune and mine.""And yours！ then he is your husband？"
"That does not follow--that is not necessary--but do not look so shocked--everybody goes on the sane way now； besides， I had no other resource--I must have starved--I could not earn my bread as you do. Besides， I was too delicate for hard work of any sort--and besides--but come， let me show you my house--you have no idea how fine it is."With anxious ostentation Manon displayed all her riches to excite Victoire's envy.
"Confess， Victoire，" said she at last， "that you think me the happiest person you have ever known.--You do not answer； whom did you ever know that was happier？""Sister Frances， who died last week， appeared to be much happier，"said Victoire.
"The poor nun！" said Manon， disdainfully. "Well， and whom do you think the next happiest？""Madame de Fleury."
"An exile and a beggar！--Oh， you are jesting now， Victoire--or--envious. With that sanctified face， citoyenne--perhaps I should say Mademoiselle--Victoire you would be delighted to change places with me this instant. Come， you shall stay with me a week to try how you like it.""Excuse me，" said Victoire， firmly； "I cannot stay with you， Manon；you have chosen one way of life and I another--quite another. I do not repent my choice--may you never repent yours！--Farewell！""Bless me！ what airs！ and with what dignity she looks！ Repent of my choice！--a likely thing， truly. Am not I at the top of the wheel？""And may not the wheel turn？" said Victoire.
"Perhaps it may，" said Manon； "but till it does I will enjoy myself. Since you are of a different humour， return to Madame Feuillot， and figure upon cambric and muslin， and make out bills， and nurse old nuns all the days of your life. You will never persuade me， however， that you would not change places with me if you could. Stay till you are tried， Mademoiselle Victoire. Who was ever in love with you or your virtues？--Stay till you are tried."第一章
"But beauty， like the fair Hesperian tree， Laden with blooming gold， had need the guard Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye To save her blossoms， or defend her fruit."--MILTON.
The trial was nearer than either Manon or Victoire expected. Manon had scarcely pronounced the last words when the ci-devant hairdresser burst into the room， accompanied by several of his political associates， who met to consult measures for the good of the nation. Among these patriots was the Abbe Tracassier.
"Who is that pretty girl who is with you， Manon？" whispered he； "a friend of yours， I hope？"Victoire left the room immediately， but not before the profligate abbe had seen enough to make him wish to see more. The next day he went to Madame Feuillot's under pretence of buying some embroidered handkerchiefs； he paid Victoire a profusion of extravagant compliments， which made no impression upon her innocent heart， and which appeared ridiculous to her plain good sense. She did not know who he was， nor did Madame Feuillot； for though she had often heard of the abbe， yet she had never seen him. Several succeeding days he returned， and addressed himself to Victoire， each time with increasing freedom. Madame Feuillot， who had the greatest confidence in her， left her entirely to her own discretion.
