The President's Daughter (Britton)/Chapter 100
When, on the following morning, August 3rd, I arose, pale-faced, to rush down to the Dijon station for my paper, I wept for joy to read the headlines. He was much, much better! There, I thought, that proved that dreams "go by opposites" as I had often heard people say, for I had dreamed that he was dead, yet he lived! How good was God to keep him safe for me! In spite of dreams and heavy heart I had found him alive and getting better each minute. Tears of gladness streamed down my face.
This was Friday. I remembered there was to be a dance that night for the foreign students. I would attend that! I would buy a new dress of brightest color and I would be gay indeed! I would evidence my gratitude by banishing from this moment all apprehensive thoughts. I would possess myself of a new spirit, a spirit of happiness born of gratitude for my beloved's recovery. He was all right now. He was so strong, how foolish for me to imagine . . . . how we would talk about all this after I was back in America and made my first visit to the White House! And I would tell him of all my fears and he would smile and hug me and say adorably, "You do love me, don't you, dearie?" Oh, how I loved him!
I smiled at passers-by as I skipped along to buy "something new." The lady in the dress shop was eager to please me. "Je desire une robe, madame, avec beaucoup le coleur jolie!" I informed her gaily in my best French. I selected one with cerise predominating. I had a large evening hat which would do finely, and I would wear my black satin slippers and sheerest black stockings.
Next I must have my hair washed and cut. I was wearing it straight that summer. I went into what appeared to be a well-conducted beauty parlor. "Je desire ma cheval coupé et laveé!" I informed the attendant, a man, at the desk. He looked puzzled. I repeated my statement, taking off my hat and running my hands through my hair. I had noticed that the several ladies who were being either curled or combed had turned to look at me in undisguised amusement, but then people were always amused at my French. So I repeated the statement the second time more loudly, generously enabling the amused ladies and attendants to have another smile at my expense. They didn't know how happy I was. What did I care if I provoked their laughter. Everybody should laugh. Everybody should be gay. The President of the United States was fast recovering. He was sick, but he was getting well! My sweetheart! My darling!
"Certainment," I said, smiling, "cheval—laveé—coupé!" He burst into unrestrained laughter. The attendants burst into unrestrained laughter. The ladies who were getting curled or combed burst into unrestrained laughter. And I laughed, too, though I knew not what had so greatly amused them.
"Cheval—cheveaux," explained the attendant between spasms. "Oh, I know!" I said in English, then I laughed with them. Mistakes we traveling Americans had made in plenty, but never, I am sure, had anyone topped this one, and never, I am sure, will that attendant forget that he one day received the strange request from an American woman to "have her horse washed and cut!"
Smelling much too strongly of cologne, which my attendant had insisted was the proper thing to sprinkle on one's hair after a shampoo, I flew home to show Helen Anderson my new dress. She came into my bedroom. "Mr. Harding is much better," I told her with a smile. "Didn't I tell you," she answered, "that was probably all paper talk?" I nodded, glad to acquiesce. We talked about the dance that night and both planned to go. "I have a few more things to do downtown," I said, "and will run and do them now—or, rather, immediately after luncheon," I decided, seeing by my watch that it was almost time to go to Mme. Daillant's.