these promising days Franklin was a happy man. He dressed simply,
and he lived humbly for an envoy, though his living cost him some
thirteen thousand dollars a year. He did not conform to French fashions,
nor did the French expect them from a philosopher. He did not even wear
a wig, which most men wore upon state occasions. Instead of a wig he
wore a fur cap, and one of his portraits so represents him.

While the negotiations were going on, a large cake was sent one day to
the apartment where the envoys were assembled. It bore the inscription
_Le digne Franklin_ (the worthy Franklin). On reading the inscription,
Mr. Silas Deane, one of the ambassadors, said, "As usual, Franklin, we
have to thank you for our share in gifts like these."

"Not at all," said Franklin. "This cake is designed for all three of us.
Don't you see?--Le (Lee) Digne (Deane) Franklin."

He could afford to be generous and in good humor.

February 6, 1778, was one of the most glorious of all in Franklin's
life. That day the treaties were completed and put upon the tables to
sign. The boy of the old Boston writing school did honor to his
schoolmaster again. He put his name now after the conditions of the
alliance between France and the United States of America.

The treaty was celebrated in great pomp at the court.

The event was to be publicly announced on March 20, 1778. On that day
the envoys were to be presented to the king amid feasts and rejoicings.

Would Franklin wear a wig on that great occasion? His locks were gray
and thin, for he was seventy-two years old, and his fur cap would not be
becoming amid the splendors of Versailles.

He ordered one. The hairdresser came with it. He could not fit it upon
the philosopher's great head.

"It is too small," said Franklin. "Monsieur, it is impossible."

"No, monsieur," said the perruquier, "it is not that the wig is too
small; it is that your head is too large!"

What did Franklin need of a wig? He dressed for the occasion in a plain
suit of black velvet, with snowy ruffles and silver buckles. When the
chamberlain saw him coming, he hesitated to admit him. Admit a man to
the royal presence in his own head alone? But he allowed the philosopher
to go on in his velvet, ruffles, and silver buckles, and his independent
appearance filled the court with delight.

There was another paper that he must now have begun to see in his clear
visions. The treaty of alliance would lead to the triumph of th