The responsibility of dressing both her sister and herself fell upon Sybil, who was the real author of all Mrs.Lee's millinery triumphs when they now occurred, except that Madeleine managed to put character into whatever she wore, which Sybil repudiated on her own account.

On this day Sybil had reasons for special excitement.

All winter two new dresses, one especially a triumph of Mr.
Worth's art, had lain in state upstairs, and Sybil had waited in vain for an occasion that should warrant the splendour of these garments.
One afternoon in early June of the preceding summer, Mr.Worth had received a letter on the part of the reigning favourite of the King of Dahomey, directing him to create for her a ball-dress that should annihilate and utterly destroy with jealousy and despair the hearts of her seventy-five rivals; she was young and beautiful; expense was not a consideration.

Such were the words of her chamberlain.

All that night, the great genius of the nineteenth century tossed wakefully on his bed revolving the problem in his mind.