was received in every town through which he passed with ovations
inspired by the enthusiasm felt throughout old France at the return of
the Bourbons. Touraine was aroused for its legitimate princes; the
town itself was in a flutter, every window decorated, the inhabitants
in their Sunday clothes, a festival in preparation, and that nameless
excitement in the air which intoxicates, and which gave me a strong
desire to be present at the ball given by the duke. When I summoned
courage to make this request of my mother, who was too ill to go
herself, she became extremely angry. "Had I come from Congo?" she
inquired. "How could I suppose that our family would not be
represented at the ball? In the absence of my father and brother, of
course it was my duty to be present. Had I no mother? Was she not
always thinking of the welfare of her children?"

In a moment the semi-disinherited son had become a personage! I was
more dumfounded by my importance than by the deluge of ironical
reasoning with which my mother received my request. I questioned my
sisters, and then discovered that my mother, who liked such theatrical
plots, was already attending to my clothes. The tailors in Tours were
fully occupied by the sudden demands of their regular customers, and
my mother was forced to employ her usual seamstress, who--according to
provincial custom--could do all kinds of sewing. A bottle-blue coat
had been secretly made for me, after a fashion, and silk stockings and
pumps provided; waistcoats were then worn short, so that I could wear
one of my father's; and for the first time in my life I had a shirt
with a frill, the pleatings of which puffed out my chest and were
gathered in to the knot of my cravat. When dressed in this apparel I
looked so little like myself that my sister's compliments nerved me to
face all Touraine at the ball. But it was a bold enterprise. Thanks to
my slimness I slipped into a tent set up in the gardens of the Papion