"There are many changes abroad," he said. "Who knows but that this hero may appear to put straight all these tangled wrongs."
He took up his high-crowned white hat with the cluster of black plumes, and, saluting all very pleasantly, left the shop.
"There goes no hero there at least," said Duprès softly, glancing through the window at the Count, who glittered in the sun without. "He spent fifty thalers to-day in unguents—conserve of violets, lotion of citrons, sweetmeats of pistachio nut, rose and orange water!"
"Is his brother like him?" asked Rénèe.
"I have never seen the Prince of Orange," answered the alchemist, but Duprès, who appeared to have been everywhere and seen every one, declared he knew the Prince well by sight.
"He is more magnificent than Count Louis, and more to be feared though so few years older—for he is certainly a great Prince. But prodigal and greatly in debt, they say—and not very pious, nor straight-living—at least, no more so than any man of his blood and youth."
"Ah, Dominus," said Rénèe, "cannot you look in your jet tablets and see what the future of this marriage will be?"
"I have looked for the Elector time enough," replied Duprès with a little smile, "and saw nothing but confusion."
"Have you tried to see the future of the poor Protestant peoples?" asked Rénèe earnestly.
The Frenchman carefully put away the tray of gems.