dy created the _Pare aux Cerfs_ (Louis XV's seraglio), but had
not yet descended to the Parisian house of prostitution. It made this
descent leaning on the arm of Madame du Barry. Madame du Barry was a
moral sister to Manon Lescaut, but instead of taking herself off to
Louisiana to repent, she plunged into the golden whirlpool at Versailles
as a finish to her career. Could the coaches of a King mean more than
the ordinary carriage of an abandoned girl?

Jeanne Vaubernier--known in the bagnios by the name of Mademoiselle
Lange--was born at Vaucouleurs, as was Jeanne d'Arc. Better still, this
later Jeanne said openly at Versailles--dared she say otherwise?--that
she was descended in a straight line from the illustrious, the
venerated, the august, sacred, national maid, Jeanne. "Why did Du Barry
come to Paris?'" says Leon Gozlan in that account of the Chateau de
Lucienne which makes a brilliant and learned chapter in the history of
France. "Does one ever know precisely why things are done? She obeyed
the magnet which attracts to Paris all who in themselves have a title to
glory, to celebrity, or to misfortune. Du Barry had a pretty, provincial
face, bright and charming, a face astonished at everything, hair soft
and ash-colored, blue eyes, veiled and half open, and a skin fair with
rose tints. She was a child of destiny. Who could have said, when she
crossed the great town in her basket cart, which rolled lazily along
on its massive, creaking wheels, that some day she would have equipages
more beautiful than any of those which covered her with mud in passing,
and on her arms more laces and diamonds than any of these ladies
attended by footmen in liveries?"

When Jeanne left the provinces to come to Paris, she found her native
country. She was granted the freedom of the city, and expanded in
her joy like a delicate plant transplanted into a hothouse. She found
herself at home for the first time; and felt that she could rule as a
despot over all frequenters of the streets. She learned fashion and
love at one and the same time. Gourdan had a hat made for her, and, as
a reward, initiated her into the customs. But she was called to other
destinies.

One day, when she was walking in the Tuileries, a lunatic--and lunatics
have second sight--asked her favor when she should become queen. Du
Barry said to herself: "This man is mad." But then she thought of the
Pompadour, blushed--it was the only time--and turned her eyes towards