"I knew all that," said Monsieur Poulain, who seemed, in truth, to be well posted upon all subjects.
"If you did not know it," Mario replied, "I should not regret having told you. Surely you would not furnish the Prince de Condé with a new pretext for confiscating Madame de Beuvre's property?"
"No, indeed!" replied the rector laughing outright, with a sort of cordiality. "You reason well, and a man may, without great risk, be as frank as you are, when he knows his companions. But have entire confidence in me, for I have broken entirely with the Jesuits, at my risk and peril!"
Monsieur Poulain spoke the truth.
A few moments later he was in the Marquis de Bois-Doré's presence, and the interview was very civil—almost friendly—on both sides.
[LXX]
The marquis did not need to convoke the ban and arrière-ban in order to raise a small troop of volunteers. His best men, sure of being well rewarded, had followed him enthusiastically.
The intrepid Aristandre took a keen personal delight in the idea of thrashing messieurs the Spaniards, whom he detested in memory of Sancho; the faithful Adamas rode a gentle palfrey in the rear-guard, and carried in his saddle-bags his master's perfumes and curling-tongs, nothing more!
Save for a touch of the tongs to what little hair was still left on his neck, and a little scented water for his own enjoyment, the marquis was as simple in his toilet as he had formerly been dazzling. No more wigs, no more paint, almost no lace, embroidery and purl; simply an ample doublet of woolen cloth, with open sleeves, short-clothes of the same material extending below the knee, boots fitting tight to the leg, with plain linen ruffles falling over the tops, a broad unembroidered neckband, and over the whole an immense, thick fur-lined cloak—such was the costume of the Beau Monsieur de Bois-Doré.
The metamorphosis can be explained in a few words.