'Let me be wary,' thought I, 'or I shall really end by loving this woman.'
Antoine, with considerable circumspection, conducted me towards her boudoir or dressing-room, and raising a curtain, ushered me at once and unannounced into her presence. This little apartment was charming. It was nearly circular, being in a tower of the château, and from a window I could see the smoke of Paris and the two dark towers of Notre Dame in the distance. The walls were hung with pale-blue silk and silver; the furniture was all tapestry, and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The tables were buhl; the carpet Persian, and the ceiling of blue, powdered with fleurs-de-lis, and painted in a florid style, to suit the French taste of the age. Nothing was spared in the way of expense, and it was averred that, for the fair inmate of the Château d'Amboise, the king, when his own funds failed, gave her more than one order for a thousand crowns of the sum, upon Messire Estein Janin, Seigneur de Bertiliac (treasurer to her Majesty the Queen Consort), whose office and residence were then in the Petit Bourbon.
A prie-dieu of oak, richly carved and covered with blue velvet embroidered with silver, stood in the centre of the apartment; on it lay a gilded missal; but both seemed as if they were much less in use than the mirror, the fan, and the curling-tongs on the toilette-table.
The Countess was seated before a mirror, with a fan of feathers in her hand. Her neck, arms, and perhaps rather too much of her large, fair bosom, were bare; but their whiteness was dazzling, and contrasted powerfully with the rich deep tint of the soft and silky hair which fell in wavy masses over her shoulders, and which the expert hands of her tire-woman, a fair-haired creature, plainly dressed (in fact, my pretty mask of the last night), were wreathing, curling, and pinning up for the morning, previous to the visit of her perruquier.
A brilliant young noble clad in white velvet laced with broad bars of gold, and having a diamond star sparkling on his left breast, was rising from his knee before her, as I entered, and for an instant I was conscious of a pang of jealousy. His complexion was dark; his eyes keen; his mouth beautifully cut, and his bearing was more than courtly—it was full of natural grace. The manner in which madame smiled and held out her hand, reassured me.
'Welcome, M. Arthur,' said she; 'this conjuncture is fortunate. M. le Marquis, allow me to present to you the young gentleman of whom we have just been speaking, ard who is so warmly recommended to me by our friend Monseigneur le Duc de Lennox. M. Arthur, this gentleman is Monseigneur le Marquis de Gordon, Commander of the King's Scottish Guard.'
I bowed low on hearing this, and all momentary emotion of pique gave way to the warmth of heart and cameraderie with which Scotsmen always meet in a foreign land. The uniform of the marquis was white, as worn by the Scottish guard 'in token of their unspotted fidelity and unstained honour.' The diamond badge on his left breast was the star and cross of St. Andrew.
'A friend of my mother's house will always be welcome to me,' said he, pressing my hand; 'for Henrietta Stewart made some mixture in the blood of Lennox and Huntly, allying them thus for ever. I have just heard your story from the Countess, and sympathize with you; it is the old tale of local oppression and misgovernment, which will ever exist while the affairs of Scotland are committed to the care of needy lawyers and desperate placemen. But our king will find it perilous work to push his projects on the Scottish Church—of that anon. And so you wish to serve king Louis?'
'Yes, my Lord, in any military capacity that may become a gentleman. I have come to France to feed myself with the sword that fed my father before me; for he, too, served in the Scottish Guard.'
'True—at the siege of Rochelle, at Caumont, and the capture of the Château de Sully; I have seen his name in our records, which bear honourable testimony to his bravery and worth.'