"Jean de Nivelle has three flails;
Three palfrays with long manes and tails;
Three blades of a terrible brand,
Which he never takes into his hand.
Ah! ouivraiment!
Jean de Nivelle est bon enfant!"
The magnificence of their attire, the happy nonchalance and graceful ease of their manner, contrasted with his own tattered and humble uniform, fallen fortune, and jaded spirit, made Walter's heart sick as he entered; but, assuming somewhat of the old air of a cavalier officer, he bowed to the noble company, and awaited in silence the commands of the Mareschal.
"Approach, Monsieur," said the handsome young Duc de Chartres. "Tête Dieu! but you look very pale! You were wounded I believe?"
"It is nearly healed Monseigneur,"
"Ah, it is deuced unpleasant work this fighting and beleaguering."
"De Chartres would rather be at Chantilly," said the Duc de Vendome, laughing.
"Or at Versailles," said a Chevalier of St. Louis. "He is thinking of little Mariette Gondalaurier."
"Or St. Denis and adorable Isabeau Lagrange."
"Say Paris at once, Messieurs," said the boyish roué, smiling. "I have beauties everywhere."
"The Scottish officer will drink with us—here, boy, assist our friend to wine," said Luxembourg to his page. "'Tis only Frontiniac, Monsieur; but an hour ago it was Dutch William's, and we drink it out of pure spite."