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Updated: June 26, 2025
What, ho, lackeys; hither, I say. Van Klopen is engaged, is he? Hie to him and say I must see him at once." The two accomplices exchanged looks, as though they recognized the shrill, squeaky voice. "That is our man," whispered Mascarin, as the door was violently flung open, and Gaston de Gandelu burst in. He was dressed even more extravagantly than usual, and his face was inflamed with rage.
He wanted to find out the one common interest that bound all these plotters together Verminet, Van Klopen, Mascarin, Hortebise, and Martin Rigal. As he submitted all this strange combination of persons to the test, the thought of Gaston de Gandelu came across his mind.
"It is hard for the wife of one of the richest men in Paris to see a bill for absolute necessities disputed in this style," she was saying. A man's voice, with a strong Teutonic accent, the voice of Van Klopen, the Hollander, caught up the refrain. "Yes, strict necessities, one can swear to that.
"Ah, M. de Gandelu," said he, "you have come, I suppose, to bespeak some fresh toilettes for that exquisite creature, Zora de Chantemille?" "Not to-day," returned Gaston. "Zora is a little indisposed." Andre, however, who had arranged the narrative that he was about to pour into the ears of the famous Van Klopen, was in too much haste to permit of any unnecessary delay.
One might have fancied that its muscles had become relaxed after terrible efforts to feign or to conceal some violent emotions; and there was something melancholy, almost terrifying in the eternal, and perhaps involuntary smile, which curved her lips. She wore a dress of black velvet, with slashed sleeves and bodice, a new design of the famous man-milliner, Van Klopen.
As soon as they were once more alone, Mascarin examined the letters. "Ah," cried he, "one from Van Klopen, and the other from the Hotel de Mussidan. Let us first see what our friend the man-milliner has to say. "You may be at ease. Our mutual friend Verminet has executed your orders most adroitly.
"If I could only understand the game," muttered the puzzled Van Klopen. "There is no necessity for that now; only act up to your instructions." "I will obey, but remember that we shall not only lose her custom, but that of all her acquaintance." Again the same angry sounds were heard in the corridor. "It is scandalous," cried a voice. "I have been waiting an hour; my sword and armor.
"My husband will pay you," said she; "but I shall be lost." "That is not my lookout. I have partners whose interests I have to consult." "Do not say that, sir! He has paid my debts once, and if he should be angry and take my children from me Dear M. Van Klopen, be merciful!" She wrung her hands, and the tears coursed down her cheeks; but the tailor was perfectly unmoved.
One day over a magnificent establishment in the Rue de Grammont appeared a signboard with the name of Van Klopen, dressmaker, and in the thousands of handbills distributed with the utmost profusion, he called himself the "Regenerator of Fashion." This was an idea that would have never originated in the brain of the phlegmatic Dutchman, and whence came the funds to carry on the business?
"I don't want to give this thief, Verminet, time to warn Van Klopen of what has taken place; I had rather fall upon him with the suddenness of an earthquake. Come, let us go to his establishment at once." Had Andre known a little more of the man he had to deal with, he would have learned that no one could fall like an earthquake upon Van Klopen.
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