But let us return to Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine, and to the period when the events that we are about to describe took place.
A young man came out of Rue des Francs-Bourgeois and passed the Hôtel de Carnavalet, before which artists and admirers of sculpture always paused to gaze at the waving lines of the great portal, and the masks and bas-reliefs that adorned the arches of the windows—the work of the immortal Jean Goujon.
Fortunate structure, which the genius of an artist was to make famous forever, and to which, at a later time, a woman of intellect was to add renewed lustre by making it her residence!
But at the period of which we write, Madame de Sévigné had not taken up her abode at the Hôtel de Carnavalet.
The hour was not propitious for halting in front of the mansion, for it was very near Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, which at that time extended to Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine; moreover, the person who came from the first-named street did not seem to be in that frame of mind which fits us to pass judgment on the objects of beauty we may meet on our road.
He was, as we have said, a young man. Twenty-five years was his age; he was tall, slender, and well built; there was in his carriage and in every movement the ease of bearing which denotes the man of the world, and the manners which point to familiarity with cultivated society, and which one does not lose, even in low company, when one has inherited them from a long line of ancestors.
In addition to grace of form, this young man possessed a handsome face and clean-cut features; his brow was lofty and proud; his black eyes were large and bright, and surmounted by very dense eyebrows which almost met, thus imparting at times a somewhat sombre expression to the organs of vision below them, which flashed fire when animated by wrath, but could, on occasion, assume an expression of gentleness and tenderness which it was difficult to resist; a small mouth, well supplied with teeth, and shaded by a small moustache; an oval chin adorned by a royale; and a forest of black hair which fell in thick curls over his neck and shoulders—such, physically, was Léodgard de Marvejols.
As for his moral character, this story will instruct us sufficiently therein.
Clad in a handsome doublet of crimson silk, slashed with white satin; knee-breeches of the same material, held in place by a white belt with silver fringe, to which was attached a long sword, with a hilt of the finest steel, ornamented with fringe and bows of ribbon; the young cavalier's feet and legs were encased in funnel-shaped top-boots of yellow leather, with buckles at the instep; spurs affixed to those light boots indicated that they seldom contributed to wear out the pavements. A broad collarette, trimmed with lace, served as a cravat, and a small velvet cloak was thrown over the shoulders and clasped on one side. Lastly, a hat with a pointed crown and broad brim, turned up in front, and surmounted by a long white plume attached by a steel button, was the young man's headgear; and it must be said that it was infinitely more graceful and refined than the hideous hats that we wear to-day.
We must do justice to the "good old times" in this respect: the costumes worn by men were much more graceful, more dignified, more attractive, than they now are; for we must, before everything, be impartial, and award praise as well as blame.