"Tell us about this miraculous toilette," said Madame Rohan-Soubise; "I will tell you afterwards another story about M. de Létorière, which will furnish a curious contrast to all his present magnificence."
"And I, also," . . . said the abbé. "No later than this morning, the Archbishop of Paris told me a hundred tales of this fine Marquis!"
"To finish about this toilette, madame," said M. de Lugeac. "After the first part of the concert was over, Létorière was seen entering the box of Judge Solar, ambassador of his majesty the King of Sardinia,"—and M. de Lugeac inclined his head towards Mlle. de Soissons, a cousin of this king. "The box was empty; the Marquis remained there a few moments to observe the audience. He wore a coat of plain, straw-colored moiré, with cuffs of changeable gold and sea-green stuff; his shoulder-knot was of gold and green; you see, madame, that so far, nothing could be more simple." . . .
"The shades are well enough selected, we will allow," said the abbé.
"But," continued the count, "what was truly marvellous was the trimming of this coat. First, the Marquis's Steinkerque order was fastened with a magnificent emerald buckle; then his large and small buttons, and even the mounting of his sword, were in magnificent opals, which threw green, blue and orange rays, almost as brilliant as the diamonds which encircled these superb stones."[1]
"But ornaments like those must be worth more than twenty thousand crowns!" cried the abbé.
"I can well believe it," replied M. de Lugeac, "and it is a foolish extravagance; but it is always so whenever the Marquis appears in that box, so magnificently dressed, his hair, lightly snowed like hoar-frost with unbleached powder, falling in his own fashion in waving curls on each side of his temples, he always excites in the public a kind of ecstasy of admiration, succeeded by a murmur more and more approving, until at last almost universal bravos burst forth."
"But, in truth, this foolish apotheosis of the beauty of a man is but a pagan ovation," said Madame Rohan-Soubise, with a contemptuous smile. "Besides, what is quite as amusing as the enthusiasm of the Parisians for the charming graces of M. de Létorière, is the profound admiration he has for himself. The vanity of this new Narcissus has been, they say, so ridiculously exalted for some time past, that he has become quite invincible; there are numbers of desperate and weeping beauties, who in vain call with loud cries upon this disdainful Celadon. Undoubtedly no woman now appears to him worthy of his attentions."
"Or perhaps, madame, he has found one worthy of his love," said Mlle. de Soissons, raising her noble and beautiful face, radiant with goodness, love and pride, as she listened to this indirect eulogium on the fidelity of the Marquis.
Madame Rohan-Soubise, not perceiving her niece's emotion, continued: