To D'Alvimar he seemed an appalling spectacle, at first sight. The Spaniard could not understand that profusion of ebon curls around the wrinkled face, those heavy, awe-inspiring eyebrows over the soft, mild eyes, that brilliant rouge, which seemed like a mask placed in jest upon a venerable and benevolent face.
As for the costume, its extreme elegance, the quantity of lace, embroidery, rosettes and plumes, made it ridiculous beyond words at midday, in the country; not to mention the fact that the pale, delicate hues which our marquis affected were horribly out of harmony with the lion-like aspect of his bristling moustache and his borrowed mane.
But the old gentleman's greeting neutralized most agreeably the repellent effect produced upon D'Alvimar by that burlesque figure.
Monsieur de Beuvre had risen to present Guillaume's friend to the marquis, and to remind him that he was placed in his care for several days.
"It is a pleasure and an honor which I should claim for myself," said Monsieur de Beuvre, "if I were in my own house; but I must not forget that I am under my daughter's roof. Moreover, this house is much less rich and splendid than yours, my dear Sylvain, and we do not wish to deprive Monsieur Villareal of the pleasures that await him there."
"I accept your hyperbolical statements," replied Bois-Doré, "if they will but dazzle Monsieur de Villareal so far as to induce him to remain a long while under my care."
Whereupon he extended his arms, swathed in lace to the elbow, and embraced the pretended Villareal, saying with a frank laugh that showed his fine white teeth:
"Were you the devil himself, monsieur, from the moment that you are entrusted to me, you become as a brother to me."
He was careful not to say "as a son." He would have been afraid of revealing the number of his years, which number he believed to be shrouded in mystery because he had forgotten it himself.
Villareal d'Alvimar could readily have dispensed with that embrace on the part of a Catholic of such recent date, especially as the perfumes with which the marquis was reeking took away the little appetite he had, and as, after embracing him, he pressed his hands vigorously between his dry fingers, armed with enormous rings. But D'Alvimar had to consider his own safety first of all, and he felt sure, from Monsieur Sylvain's cordial and hearty manner, that he had really been placed in loyal and trustworthy hands.