"No, monsieur," she said to her father, "permit your daughter to tell you that you are only jesting. The marquis was much less than twenty, and his conduct was all the more glorious."
"What! he was not twenty years old?" cried De Beuvre; "can it be that I have become, all of a sudden, the older of the two?"
"One is never older than one appears," replied Lauriane, "and it is only necessary to look at the marquis——"
She paused, lacking the courage to tell a downright falsehood even to console him; but the intention was enough, for Bois-Doré was content with very little.
He thanked her with a glance, his brow cleared; De Beuvre began to laugh, D'Alvimar admired Lauriane's charming delicacy, and the storm was turned aside.
[7]I do not know what has become of the portrait here described. I saw one like it in the possession of the illustrious General Pepe. It is well known that there is a portrait by Raphael which is a masterpiece. In it Borgia is almost handsome; at all events there is so much distinction in his face and refinement in his person that one hesitates to detest him. But close scrutiny causes a sensation of genuine terror. The hand, straight, slender and white as a woman's, tranquilly grasps the hilt of a dagger hanging at his side. It holds it with remarkable grace; it is ready to strike. The impending movement is so admirably foreshadowed, that we can see in anticipation how the blow is to be dealt, downward, into his victim's heart. There is grandeur in that portrait, in the sense that the great artist has left his stamp upon it, but without attempting to disguise the moral wickedness of his model, which he makes to shine forth triumphantly through the appalling tranquillity of his features.
[VIII]
They conversed pleasantly for a few moments. Monsieur de Beuvre urged D'Alvimar not to take fright at his outbreaks, and to come again on the second day thereafter with Bois-Doré, who was accustomed to dine at La Motte every Sunday. Thereupon a servant announced that la carroche of monsieur le marquis was ready.—Everyone knows that, previous to the time of Louis XIV., who ordered otherwise, carrosse was of both genders, and more frequently feminine, after the Italian carrozza.
Now, Monsieur de Bois-Doré's carroche or carrosse was an enormous, lumbering chariot, which four fine strong Percheron horses drew with admirable courage; they were somewhat too fat, perhaps, for one and all, men and beasts alike, were well-fed under worthy Monsieur Sylvain's roof.
This venerable equipage, constructed to defy the difficulties of roads carriageable or not, was stout enough to stand any test, and, if it left something to be desired in the way of ease, one was assured at all events of not breaking many bones in case of an upset, because the interior was so bountifully stuffed. There were six inches of wool and tow under the damask lining, so that one had a sense of security, if not all possible comfort.