In the grand gallery of the Palais Royal stood a mahogany table, the

bellying legs of which, decorated with Venetian-wrought gold, sparkled

and glittered in the light of the flames that rose and fell in the

gaping chimney-place. Around this table were seated four persons of

note: the aging Maréchal de Villeroi, Madame de Motteville of

imperishable memoirs, Anne of Austria, and Cardinal Mazarin. The

Italian, having won a pile of golden louis from the soldier, was

smiling amiably and building yellow pyramids, forgetful for the time

being of his gouty foot which dozed on a cushion under the table. This

astute politician was still a handsome man, but the Fronde and the

turbulent nobility had left their imprint. There were many lines

wrinkling the circle of his eyes, and the brilliant color on his cheeks

was the effect of rouge and fever.

The queen gazed covetously at Mazarin's winnings. She was growing fat,

and the three long curls on each side of her face in no wise diminished

its width; but her throat was still firm and white, and her hands,

saving their plumpness, were yet the envy of many a beautiful woman.

Anne of Austria was now devoted to three things; her prayers, her

hands, and her plays.

As for the other two, Madame de Motteville looked hungry and politely

bored, while the old maréchal scowled at his cards.

Near-by, on a pile of cushions, sat Philippe d'Orléans, the king's

brother. He was cutting horses from three-colored prints and was

sailing them up the chimney. At the left of the fireplace, the dark

locks of the girl mingling with the golden curls of the boy, both

poring over a hook filled with war-like pictures, the one interested by

the martial spirit native to his blood, the other by the desire to

please, sat the boy Louis and Mademoiselle de Mancini, Mazarin's niece.

From time to time the cardinal permitted his gaze to wander in their

direction, and there was fatherly affection in his smile. Mazarin

liked to call these gatherings "family parties."

The center of the gallery presented an animated scene. The beautiful

Madame de Turenne, whose husband was the maréchal-general of the armies

of France, then engaged in war against Spain, under whose banners the

great Condé was meeting with a long series of defeats, the Comtesse de

Soissons, the Abbé de la Rivre, Madame de Brigy, the Duc and Duchesse

de Montausier,--all were laughing and exchanging badinage with the Duc

de Gramont, who was playing execrably on Mademoiselle de Longueville's

guitar. Surrounding were the younger courtiers and ladies, who also

were enjoying the affair. There are few things which amuse young

people as much as the sight of an elderly, dignified man making a clown

of himself.

"Oh, Monsieur le Duc," cried Mademoiselle de Longueville, springing

from the window-seat from which position she had been staring at the

flambeaux below, "if you fought as badly as you play, you would never

have gained the baton."




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024