First came the archbishops and bishops in their copes of cloth of gold; then the cardinals in their scarlet robes, and the Knights of St. Michael, their breasts glittering with orders; but not a cheer was raised until young Henry of Guise appeared, when it was easy to tell who was the favourite of the Parisians.
I regarded him with much interest. He was only twenty-two years old; tall and handsome, with a lissom figure and an air of easy grace that became him well. His eyes were keen and bright; he wore a light beard, and a profusion of curly hair. Altogether, he looked a very dashing and accomplished nobleman.
"There she is!" cried Felix suddenly; "do you see her? Could any one look more lovely?"
"She is certainly magnificent."
"Bah!" he interrupted in disgust, "you are looking at Margaret. 'Tis Jeanne I am speaking of—your sister. Edmond, you are more blind than a mole!"
There really was some excuse for his extravagant praise, for even amongst that galaxy of beauty Jeanne shone with a loveliness all her own, and Felix was not the only one of my comrades to declare that she was the most beautiful of all that glittering throng.
But the centre of attraction was Margaret herself, still only a girl of twenty, with a beautifully clear complexion and bright black eyes full of fire and spirit. She was truly a royal bride, gracious, dignified, queenly Magnificent brilliants sparkled in her glossy hair; her stomacher was set with lustrous pearls; her dress was of cloth of gold, and gold lace fringed her dainty handkerchief and gloves.
"A magnificent creature to look at!" grunted the man next to me, "but I would prefer my wife to be a trifle more womanly."
At length they had all passed into the pavilion, and when the ceremony was concluded Henry led his bride into the cathedral, afterwards joining Coligny, Condé, and a few other Huguenot gentlemen, who walked up and down the close, conversing earnestly together.
