At that time, too, the Place Royale was the scene of all the fêtes and carrousels, which attracted the nobility, the bourgeoisie, and the people of Paris, who were called in those days the good people. When the marriage of Louis XIII and Anne of Austria was announced, fêtes lasting three days were given on that square, although it was not entirely finished.
In later times, on that same spot where noble knights broke lances to entertain the ladies of their thoughts, who, seated on the balconies of the neighboring houses, enjoyed the jousting, and encouraged the champions of their charms by tender glances and by showing them in advance the knot of ribbon which was to be the guerdon of victory—on that same spot, we have seen and may still see the peaceable inhabitant of the Marais, who has nothing in common with the paladins of old, exercising his faithful dog and selecting a bench whereon to rest a moment in the sunshine, whose beneficent warmth allays his rheumatic pains. And the young nursemaid, too, with the children in her care, whom she often leaves to bump against trees, or to fall as they run hither and thither, while she is gossiping with other maids on the subject of their employers, which is much more amusing than to watch children. And the modest seamstress, on her way to carry home the work intrusted to her, who crosses the Place Royale, although it is not directly on her road, because she ordinarily meets there a young man who makes flattering remarks to her; there is no law against seeking pleasant meetings.
All this is far removed from the tourneys, the fanfares of trumpets, the sound of clarion and drum; from the great ladies at the windows, from the knights in the arena, from the esquires and pages and servants carrying their masters' weapons and bucklers, and from the charming troubadours, or trouvères, who had seats of honor beside the high and mighty nobles, because they were destined, later, to sing in laudation of it all.
Other times, other manners!
The old Marquis de Marvejols gazed gloomily enough at the portraits which adorned his study—for the enormous room in which he sat was nothing more than that. Soon he leaned over his desk once more, and seizing a bell rang it violently.
A valet, almost as old as his master, instantly showed his bald head beneath a velvet portière which he raised. His face, in respect to the general effect of the features and their mild expression, might have served as a model for a painting of Obedience, as personified in a servant, except that when he raised the corners of his mouth in a smile there were some slight indications of a tendency to be cunning; but if that tendency actually existed in the old servant, it never went beyond the corners of his mouth.
"Did monsieur le marquis ring?" inquired a shrill, cracked voice.
"Has my son gone out this morning, Hector?"
Old Hector pressed his lips together, and the corners of his mouth assumed their sly expression, as he replied in a drawling tone:
"Monsieur le Comte Léodgard de Marvejols certainly has not left the house this morning; I am certain of that."