treacherous object in view, or from imprudence, did not take
the trouble to dissimulate. “Count,” he said, “you’re a man
of excellent taste.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” replied De Guiche; “but why
do you say that?”
“Well, I appeal to his highness.”
“No doubt of it,” said Monsieur, “and Guiche knows perfectly
well that I regard him as a most finished cavalier.”
“Well, since that is decided, I resume. You have been in the
princess’s society, count, for the last eight days, have you
not?”
“Yes,” replied De Guiche, coloring in spite of himself.
“Well, then, tell us frankly, what do you think of her
personal appearance?”
“Of her personal appearance?” returned De Guiche, stupefied.
“`Yes; of her appearance, of her mind, of herself, in fact.”
Astounded by this question, De Guiche hesitated answering.
“Come, come, De Guiche,” resumed the chevalier, laughingly,
“tell us your opinion frankly; the prince commands it.”
“Yes, yes,” said the prince, “be frank.”
De Guiche stammered out a few unintelligible words.
“I am perfectly well aware,” returned Monsieur, “that the
subject is a delicate one, but you know you can tell me
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everything. What do you think of her?”
In order to avoid betraying his real thoughts, De Guiche had
recourse to the only defense which a man taken by surprise
really has, and accordingly told an untruth. “I do not find
Madame,” he said, “either good or bad looking, yet rather
good than bad looking.”
“What! count,” exclaimed the chevalier, “you who went into
such ecstasies and uttered so many exclamations at the sight
of her portrait.”
De Guiche colored violently. Very fortunately his horse,
which was slightly restive, enabled him by a sudden plunge
to conceal his agitation. “What portrait!” he murmured,
joining them again. The chevalier had not taken his eyes off
him.
“Yes, the portrait. Was not the miniature a good likeness?”
“I do not remember. I had forgotten the portrait; it quite
escaped my recollection.”
“And yet it made a very marked impression upon you,” said
the chevalier.
“That is not unlikely.”
“Is she witty, at all events?” inquired the duke.
“I believe so, my lord.”
“Is M. de Buckingham witty, too?” said the chevalier.
“I do not know.”
“My own opinion is, that he must be,” replied the chevalier,
“for he makes Madame laugh, and she seems to take no little
pleasure in his society, which never happens to a clever
woman when in the company of a simpleton.”
“Of course, then, he must be clever,” said De Guiche,
simply.
At this moment Raoul opportunely arrived, seeing how De
Guiche was pressed by his dangerous questioner, to whom he
addressed a remark, and in that way changed the
conversation. The entree was brilliant and joyous.
The king, in honor of his brother, had directed that the
festivities should be on a scale of the greatest possible
magnificence. Madame and her mother alighted at the Louvre,
where, during their exile, they had so gloomily submitted to
obscurity, misery, and privations of every description. That
palace, which had been so inhospitable a residence for the
unhappy daughter of Henry IV., the naked walls, the uneven
floorings, the ceilings matted with cobwebs, the vast
dilapidated chimney-places, the cold hearths on which the
charity extended to them by parliament hardly permitted a
fire to glow, was completely altered in appearance. The
richest hangings and the thickest carpets, glistening
flagstones and pictures, with their richly gilded frames; in
every direction could be seen candelabra, mirrors, and
furniture and fittings of the most sumptuous character; in
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every direction, also, were guards of the proudest military
bearing, with floating plumes, crowds of attendants and
courtiers in the ante-chambers and upon the staircases. In
the courtyards, where the grass had formerly been allowed to
luxuriate, as if the ungrateful Mazarin had thought it a
good idea to let the Parisians perceive that solitude and
disorder were, with misery and despair, the fit
accompaniments of fallen monarchy, the immense courtyards,
formerly silent and desolate, were now thronged with
courtiers whose horses were pacing and prancing to and fro.
The carriages were filled with young and beautiful women,