“It is an observation that I was just making to myself, my dear sir; seeing you so well dressed, I said to myself, ‘How much harm a few weeks’ absence does to a man; here am I, Louis de Clermont, forced to take a little Gascon gentleman as a model of taste.’ But let me pass; you are so near to me that you tread on my feet, and I feel it in spite of my boots.”
And turning away, he advanced towards St. Luc, whom he saw approaching.
“Incredible!” cried all the young men, “we insulted him; he took no notice.”
“There is something in it,” said Quelus.
“Well!” said the king, advancing, “what were you and M. de Bussy saying?”
“Do you wish to know what M. de Bussy said, sire?”
“Yes, I am curious.”
“Well, I trod on his foot, and insulted him, and he said nothing.”
“What, gentlemen,” cried Henri, feigning anger, “you dared to insult a gentleman in the Louvre!”
“Alas! yes, sire, and he said nothing.”