Do my fair readers imagine these sumptuary laws were obeyed? Do they not feel that many women would prefer paying fines to the mortification of not dressing according to their inclination? I leave them to decide the question, and I proceed to describe feminine attire in the reign of a prince who ventured to say to Fashion, “Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.” What an extraordinary ruler was Charles IX.! He offered battle to Fashion, a more absolute sovereign than himself!—to Fashion, whose cause was that of millions of women! Moreover, he infringed his own laws, by giving permission to the ladies of Toulouse, in 1565, to wear “vertugales.” Fashion gained the victory. Gowns with high collars were retained, and pleased the Huguenot ladies without being distasteful to the Catholics; while gold and silver were diversified in a hundred ways on various dress-stuffs, or brocaded, or mixed with lace, or twisted, or placed in bars or stripes on silk or velvet. The prohibitions were simply ignored. Women of high rank wore head-tires of black velvet, or “escoffions”—coifs of plaited gold or silk ribbons, often ornamented with jewellery. They wore masks, and held them in their hands. Bourgeoises, whose means did not allow them to run the risk of a fine, contented themselves with cloth hoods, abstained from silk, and carried no mask; but their cottes, cotillons, and gowns might be shaped according to their pleasure, and were consequently the same in form as the garments of noble ladies. Almost every bourgeoise made use of cloth stuffs or camlets, and of black muffs, for only ladies of rank might use those of various colours. For a certain length of time, widows wore veils out of doors, high gowns, a camisole, and a turned down collerette without lace. When in mourning for a father, a mother, or a husband, long sleeves were worn, bordered with white fur or swans’-down. No jewels, of course, nor trimmings of jet or steel. For two years the hair was concealed. On becoming widows, even queens were bound to remain in seclusion for forty days. The historian De Thou accuses Catherine de Médicis of having set aside this obligation. Unmarried daughters walked behind their mothers in the streets, followed by their servants. When journeying into the country, they rode on a pillion behind a man-servant. The hair of married women was sometimes worn flowing loosely on their shoulders, confined on the brow by a pearl coronet. The wedding-gown of a girl of the people was generally of cloth, with bands of black velvet, and open sleeves, hanging to the ground and lined with velvet; that of young ladies of rank depended on the taste of the wearer, whose thousand and one caprices were amenable to no law. Nor would those high-born brides have wanted for protectors of their own sex, had they infringed any of the edicts.