In costumes suited for the watering-places--yet made by the astute hands of the workwomen of Mesdames Germeuil or Carvel, Versac or Grandchamp, and produced under the equally astute eyes of those authorities in dress--the ladies entered the room where the representation was to take place, their pointed corsages and bouffante sleeves, with their deep ruffles at the elbows, setting off well their diamond-adorned head-dresses and their flowered robes. As for the men, their dress was the dress of the most costly period in France, not even excepting the days of the Great Monarch; their court-swords gold-hilted; their lace at sleeve and breast and knee worth a small fortune; their wigs works of art and of great cost.
"Mon ami," said the Marquise Grignan de Poissy to a youth who approached her as she made her way through the press of her friends, the young man being none other than her nephew, the present bearer of the title of the de Poissys, "you are charming; your costume is ravishing."
"Yet," she continued, "that is but a poor weapon to hang upon a man's thigh," and she touched lightly with her finger the ivory and gold hilt of the court-sword he carried by his side. "There is no fighting quality in that."
"My dear aunt," exclaimed the young marquis, glancing at her admiringly, for, even to him, the beauty of his late uncle's widow was more or less alluring, "my dear aunt, it professes to have no fighting qualities. It is only an ornament such as that," and he, too, put out a finger and touched the baton, or cane, which she carried in her hand in common with other ladies.
"Yet this," she said, "would strike a blow on any who molested me, even though it broke in the attempt, being so poor a thing," and her deep blue eyes gazed into his while sparkling like sapphires as they did so.
"And," he replied, not understanding why those eyes so transfixed him, or why, at the same time, he vibrated under their glance, "this would run a man through who molested you, even though it broke in the attempt, being so poor a thing," and he gave a little self-satisfied laugh.
"Would it? You mean that?"
"Without doubt, I mean it," he replied, his voice gradually becoming grave, while he stared fixedly at her, as though not comprehending. "Without doubt, I mean it." Then he said, a moment later--speaking as though he had penetrated the meaning she would convey: "My dear aunt Diane, is there by chance anyone whom you wish run through? If so name him. It shall be done, to-night, to-morrow, at dawn, for--for--the honour of our house and--your bright eyes."
"No! No! No! No! I do but jest. Yet, come, sit by me, I--I am nervous for the success of this play. I know the writer thereof----"
"So do I!" he interjected.