"My faith! but these Jesuits have cast a peculiar melancholy over me;
this frog's blood of mine would warm to generous impulses! . . . I
wonder where I have seen that younger fanatic?" The marquis mused a
while, but the riddle remained elusive and unexplained. He struck the
bell to summon Jehan. "Announce to Monsieur le Comte my desire to hold
speech with him, immediately."
"With Monsieur le Comte?" cried Jehan.
"Ass! must I repeat a command?"
Jehan hurried away, nearly overcome by surprise.
"A toast!" said the Vicomte d'Halluys: "the Chevalier's return to Paris
and to favor!"
The roisterers filled their glasses. "To Paris, Chevalier, to court!"
"To the beautiful unknown," whispered the poet into his friend's ear.
"Thanks, Messieurs," said the Chevalier. "Paris!" and a thousand flashes
of candle-light darted from the brimming glasses.
The scene was not without its picturesqueness. The low crockery shelves
of polished mahogany running the length of the room and filled with rare
porcelain, costly Italian glass, medieval silver, antique flagons,
loving-cups of gold inlaid with amber and garnets; a dazzling array of
candlesticks; a fireplace of shining mosaics; the mahogany table littered
with broken glass, full and empty bottles, broken pipes, pools of
overturned wine, shredded playing cards, cracked dice, and dead candles;
somber-toned pictures and rusted armor lining the walls; the brilliant
uniforms of the officers from Fort Louis, the laces and satins of the
civilians; the flushed faces, some handsome, some sodden, some made
hideous by the chisel and mallet of vice: all these produced a scene at
once attractive and repelling.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154