Now, excuse me for not waiting for you; but there's a great ball in the Rue du Bac this evening, the ball of the Victims (the wig-maker emphasized this word).

I should have thought that M.le Baron would be there." "Why," cried Morgan, laughing; "so you are still a royalist, Cadenette ?" The wig-maker laid his hand tragically on his heart.
"Monsieur le Baron," said he, "it is not only a matter of conscience, but a matter of state." "Conscience, I can understand that, Master Cadenette, but state! What the devil has the honorable guild of wigmakers to do with politics ?" "What, Monsieur le Baron ?" said Cadenette, all the while getting ready to dress his client's hair; "you ask me that?
You, an aristocrat!" "Hush, Cadenette!" "Monsieur le Baron, we _ci-devants_ can say that to each other." "So you are a _ci-devant_ ?" "To the core! In what style shall I dress M.le Baron's hair ?" "Dog's ears, and tied up behind." "With a dash of powder ?" "Two, if you like, Cadenette." "Ah! monsieur, when one thinks that for five years I was the only man who had an atom of powder '_a la marechale_.' Why, Monsieur le Baron, a man was guillotined for owning a box of powder!" "I've known people who were guillotined for less than that, Cadenette.
But explain how you happen to be a _ci-devant_.

I like to understand everything." "It's very simple, Monsieur le Baron.

You admit, don't you, that among the guilds there were some that were more or less aristocratic." "Beyond doubt; accordingly as they were nearer to the higher classes of society." "That's it, Monsieur le Baron.

Well, we had the higher classes by the hair of their head.