Frederic did not answer immediately; he let his gaze fall pityingly over his companion, and Gaston hastily said:
"Really, Frederic, your splendor throws us in the shade; look at him, he has no mask, and is dressed after the latest fashion."
The costume of the last comer was, indeed, much more elegant than those of the other young men. A long overcoat, made of fine brown cloth, sat tightly about the body and reached to the knees; the sleeves, wide at the shoulder, narrowed down toward the wrists and formed cuffs, which fell over the gloved hand. A white satin handkerchief peeped out coquettishly from the left breast pocket. White trousers, of the finest cloth, reached to the soles of his shoes, which were pointed and spurred. A tall, silk hat, with an almost invisible brim, covered his head.
Frederic allowed himself to be admired by his friends, and then said:
"Take my advice and put off your masks at once, and dress yourselves as becomes young noblemen; let the mob run around with masks on."
"Frederic is right," said Gaston, "let us hurry to do so."
"I shall await you here and bring you then to Robert; or better still, you can meet me at the Cafe Valois."
The three masks left, and the Vicomte Talizac, for he was the last comer, remained alone.
His external appearance was very unsympathetic. The sharply-cut face had a disagreeable expression, the squinting eyes and rolling look were likewise repulsive, and if his back was not as much bent as usual, it was due to the art of Bernard, the tailor of the dandies.
The Cafe de Valois, toward which the vicomte was now going, was generally the meeting-place of old soldiers, and the dandies called it mockingly the cafe of the grayheads. Rumor had it that it was really the meeting-place of republicans, and it was a matter of surprise why Delevan, the head of the police department, never took any notice of these rumors.