Gaston de Gandelu was much surprised at finding that Andre should be ignorant of the existence of Van Klopen, the best-known man in Paris.  To assure oneself of this, it was only necessary to glance at his circulars, which were ornamented with the representations of medals won at all sorts of exhibitions in different quarters of the world, together with various decorations received from foreign potentates.  One had been presented to him by the Queen of Spain, while he had a diploma appointing him the supplier to the Court of the Czar.  The great Van Klopen was not an Alsatian, as was generally supposed, but a stout, handsome Dutchman, who, in the year 1850, had been a tailor in his small native town, and manufactured in cloth, purchased on credit, the long waistcoats and miraculous coats worn by the wealthy citizens of Rotterdam.  Van Klopen, however, was not successful in his business, and was compelled to close his shop and abscond from his creditors.  He took refuge in Paris, where he seemed likely to die of hunger.  One day over a magnificent establishment in the Rue de Grammont appeared a signboard with the name of Van Klopen, dressmaker, and in the thousands of handbills distributed with the utmost profusion, he called himself the “Regenerator of Fashion.”  This was an idea that would have never originated in the brain of the phlegmatic Dutchman, and whence came the funds to carry on the business?  On this point he was discreetly silent.  The enterprise was at first far from a success, for during nearly a month Paris almost split its sides laughing at the absurd pretensions of the self-dubbed “Regenerator of Fashion.”  Van Klopen bent before the storm he had aroused, and in due time his advertisements brought him two customers, who were the first to blow the trumpet of his fame.  One was the Duchess de Suirmeuse, a very great lady indeed, and renowned for her eccentricities and extravagant manner, while the other was an example of another class being no less than the celebrated Jennie Fancy, who was at that time under the protection of the Count de Tremouselle; and for these two Van Klopen invented such dresses as had never been seen before.  From this moment his success was certain; indeed, it was stupendous, and Paris resounded with his praises.  Now he has achieved a world-wide reputation, and has nothing to fear from the attacks of his rivals.  He would not execute orders for every one, saying that he must pick and choose his customers, and he did so, excising the names of such as he did not think would add to his reputation.  Rank and wealth disputed the honor of being his customers.  The haughtiest dames did not shrink from entrusting to him secrets of form and figure, which they even hid from their husbands.  They endured without shrinking the touch of his coarse hands as he measured them.  He was the rage, and his showrooms were a species of neutral ground, where women of all circles of society met and examined each other.  The Duchess of —–­ did