. . . . A hundred thousand crowns!
CHAPTER XVI
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE AND AFTER
Maurice, as he labored before his mirror, wondered why in the
world it took him so long to dress. An hour had passed since he
began his evening toilet; yet here he was, still tinkering, so
to speak, over the last of a dozen cravats. The eleven others
lay strewn about, hopelessly crumpled; mute witnesses of angry
fingers and impassioned mutterings. Usually he could slip into
his evening clothes in less than thirty minutes. Something was
wrong. But perhaps this occasion was not usual.
First, the hems of his trousers were insurgent; they persisted
in hitching on the tops of his button shoes. Laces were
substituted. Then came a desultory period, during which gold
buttons were exchanged for pearl and pearl for gold, and two-
button shirts for three-button. For Maurice was something of a
dandy. He could not imagine what was the matter with his neck,
all the collars seemed so small. For once his mishaps did not
appeal to his humor. The ascent from his shoes to his collar was
as tortuous as that of the alpine Jungfrau.
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