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It was made for me, of course; but it wasn't necessary for me to put my foot into it." "You are mistaken, my man," said Lecoq. "The individual in question didn't belong to the police force. I pledge you my word of honor, he didn't." For a moment Couturier surveyed Lecoq with a knowing air, as if he hoped to discover whether he were speaking the truth or attempting to deceive him.
He left the room, went up the narrow steps leading to his study, and in a few minutes returned, holding in his hand a letter and a bundle of securities. "Here, quick, Couturier!" he said to one of his clerks, "take my carriage, which is waiting at the door, and go with monsieur to M. de Rothschild's.
"Uncle, your Monsieur de Troisville is very amiable," she said, on returning. "Why, niece, he hasn't as yet said a word." "But you can see it in his ways, his manners, his face. Is he a bachelor?" "I'm sure I don't know," replied the abbe, who was thinking of a discussion on mercy, lately begun between the Abbe Couturier and himself.
Did you notice how very pale he looked when he came in?" "He must have been playing heavily again. Couturier says he lost fifteen thousand francs at a sitting last week." "His work is none the worse done for all that," interrupted Cavaillon. "If you were in his place " He stopped short.
The tapestries are beautiful, so is the furniture, judging by the piece I have lifted the coverings from. If she does not come in soon I shall go for a walk with Agnès. 9 p.m. Héloise came in just as I was writing this morning, and we had a scrappy kind of déjeûner on the corner of the dining-room table. Then she said we had better go to her couturier in the Rue de la Paix.
The grand couturier himself is a treasure-house of queer stories and scandals, and naturally his employees take after their master.
Couturier had been an inventor, a madman with some measure of genius, and had spent a fairly large fortune in attempting all sorts of fantastic schemes.
Before undertaking such a job with a man, one finds out something about him." "I don't say I haven't been guilty of a stupid blunder," replied Couturier. "Indeed I could murder myself for it, but there was nothing about the man to make me suspect that he belonged to the secret-service. He spread a net for me, and I jumped into it.
This Couturier has a fondness for the open air, and he wouldn't hesitate to dash out our brains if he only saw a chance of escape." After taking these precautions, the man was removed from the cage in which he had been confined.
The couturier the bearded dressmaker, the masculine artist in silk and satin is an essentially modern and Parisian phenomenon. It is true that the elegant and capricious Madame de Pompadour owed most of her toilets and elegant accoutrements to the genius of Supplis, the famous tailleur pour dames or ladies' tailor, of the epoch. But Supplis was an exception, and he never assumed the name of couturier, the masculine form of couturière, "dress-maker." That appellation was reserved for the great artists of the Second Empire, Worth, Aurelly, Pingat, and their rivals, who utterly revolutionized feminine costume and endeavored to direct it in the paths of art, good taste, and comfort. Enthusiasts of grace and beauty, these artists set themselves the task of preventing the inconstant goddess of fashion from continuing to wander off into ugliness, deformity, and absurdity. In their devotion to art, beauty, and luxury, they determined never to forget fitness and comfort, and since their initiative has regulated the vagaries of fashion we must admit that our women have never been the victims of such inconvenient, ugly, and absurd inventions as crinoline, leg-o'-mutton sleeves, the coiffure
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