CHAPTER VIII

THE CHATEAU SOUBISE

Four persons were chatting in a charming little boudoir, inlaid with the red lacker of Coromandel. The furniture of this delightful room, one of the marvels of the Rohan-Soubise Chateau, was covered with brocade of silver ground with large designs in crimson. The curtains of the windows and doors, made of similar material, fell in graceful folds. A Japanese vase of gold, purple and blue, three feet in height, filled with flowers, and placed before the window, resembled an enamelled screen of the most brilliant colors. On _étagères_ of massive silver, delicately chased and inlaid with charming coral medallions, the work of some famous Florentine artist, were to be seen a quantity of Chinese knick-knacks, impossible to describe on account of their oddity.

Near a fireplace of most beautiful red antique marble, whose grate was ornamented with a garland of flowers and fruit, made of precious stones, was a little bed _à la duchesse_, a perfect miniature, with curtains, canopies, and coverlets, and feathered plumes on the dais; nothing was wanting. A very diminutive black spaniel, marked with tan, whose long silken hair was coquettishly braided with cherry and silver ribbons, slept on the couch, half hidden under the eider-down cover. A saucer of royal old blue Sèvres china, containing macaroons, crumbled into milk of almonds, awaited the delicate _Puff_ on his awaking.

Madame, the Princess of Rohan-Soubise, her niece, Mlle. de Soissons, the Count de Lugeac and the Abbé of Arcueil, were the actors in the following scene:

M. de Lugeac had just come in.

"How much you lost, madame, by not being at the brilliant concert yesterday! you would have witnessed the most extraordinary thing in the world!"

"What was it?" demanded the abbé. "Have Jean Jacques and Arouet embraced each other in public? Or have they sung the praises of the chancellor?"

"Tell us at once of this fine affair," said Madame Rohan-Soubise.

"Yesterday, at the concert, M. de Létorière was applauded--yes, applauded to the skies" . . . said M. de Lugeac, with an evident feeling of jealousy.

"Applauded? As M. de Létorière is neither a prince of the blood, nor a comedian, at least so far as I know, I do not see what title he has to be applauded," . . . dryly said Madame Rohan-Soubise, who, without known motive, and undoubtedly by presentiment, cordially detested the Marquis.

Mlle. de Soissons blushed deeply, and broke a thread of her embroidery in an impatient movement which was not perceived by her aunt.

"M. de Létorière was applauded for his coat," . . . replied the count.

"What a ridiculous dress! . . . This fine Marquis must always have people talking about him," said the abbé.

"Not ridiculous . . . but in truth so magnificent, and at the same time so elegant, that even I, who will not acknowledge myself a strong friend of the Marquis, will be generous enough to allow, that I never in all my life saw anything more charming than he, dressed as he was. . . . But when one devotes one's self to such follies, it is at least satisfactory to obtain such success." . . .

"Tell us about this miraculous toilette," said Madame Rohan-Soubise; "I will tell you afterwards another story about M. de Létorière, which will furnish a curious contrast to all his present magnificence."

"And I, also," . . . said the abbé. "No later than this morning, the Archbishop of Paris told me a hundred tales of this fine Marquis!"

"To finish about this toilette, madame," said M. de Lugeac. "After the first part of the concert was over, Létorière was seen entering the box of Judge Solar, ambassador of his majesty the King of Sardinia,"--and M. de Lugeac inclined his head towards Mlle. de Soissons, a cousin of this king. "The box was empty; the Marquis remained there a few moments to observe the audience. He wore a coat of plain, straw-colored _moiré_, with cuffs of changeable gold and sea-green stuff; his shoulder-knot was of gold and green; you see, madame, that so far, nothing could be more simple." . . .

"The shades are well enough selected, we will allow," said the abbé.

"But," continued the count, "what was truly marvellous was the trimming of this coat. First, the Marquis's Steinkerque order was fastened with a magnificent emerald buckle; then his large and small buttons, and even the mounting of his sword, were in magnificent opals, which threw green, blue and orange rays, almost as brilliant as the diamonds which encircled these superb stones."[1]

"But ornaments like those must be worth more than twenty thousand crowns!" cried the abbé.

"I can well believe it," replied M. de Lugeac, "and it is a foolish extravagance; but it is always so whenever the Marquis appears in that box, so magnificently dressed, his hair, lightly snowed like hoar-frost with unbleached powder, falling in his own fashion in waving curls on each side of his temples, he always excites in the public a kind of ecstasy of admiration, succeeded by a murmur more and more approving, until at last almost universal bravos burst forth."

"But, in truth, this foolish apotheosis of the beauty of a man is but a pagan ovation," said Madame Rohan-Soubise, with a contemptuous smile. "Besides, what is quite as amusing as the enthusiasm of the Parisians for the charming graces of M. de Létorière, is the profound admiration he has for himself. The vanity of this new Narcissus has been, they say, so ridiculously exalted for some time past, that he has become quite invincible; there are numbers of desperate and weeping beauties, who in vain call with loud cries upon this disdainful Celadon. Undoubtedly no woman now appears to him worthy of his attentions."

"Or perhaps, madame, he has found one worthy of his love," said Mlle. de Soissons, raising her noble and beautiful face, radiant with goodness, love and pride, as she listened to this indirect eulogium on the fidelity of the Marquis.

Madame Rohan-Soubise, not perceiving her niece's emotion, continued:

"But, my dear princess, if this be so, we ought to know this phoenix! For discretion is not the rôle of M. de Létorière. No, no, believe me, if he is fixed, as you say, then his choice is so unworthy of him that he is obliged to conceal it from the world."

"Perhaps, on the contrary, it is the world who, in M. de Létorière's eyes, is not worthy of knowing his secret," replied Mlle. de Soissons.

This second repartee struck her aunt, who answered:

"Truly, my dear Julie, it is easy to see that you are not acquainted with M. de Létorière, since you defend him!"

"We speak now of generalities, madame; but rest assured that if I were obliged to defend any one who interested me, I should do it boldly and without dissembling, when the time came," said Mlle. de Soissons, with a peculiar accent.

"Oh, I know you are very courageous in that way, my dear child; your friends are truly your friends; but on the contrary, your enemies are also your enemies! You must allow me also to have my preferences and my antipathies. . . . Frankly, M. de Létorière is firmly fixed in the latter; I hate everything which savors of intrigue and concealment. This Marquis had nothing, five years ago, but his cape and sword. I ask myself how it is possible that he can now have ornaments on his coat worth twenty thousand crowns, a handsome establishment, the finest horses in the world, and is enabled to play as deeply as a large landholder?"

"I believe, madame, that those who ask those questions know very well how to answer them," said Julie, dryly.

"For myself, I declare to you, my dear, that I should find it very difficult," replied Madame de Rohan-Soubise, with the most natural air; . . . "but if I had the misfortune to be one of the friends of the _opulent_ M. de Létorière, I should desire nothing better for his reputation than to see him burned as a sorcerer, however incredulous I may be about the philosopher's stone."

At this last sarcasm Mlle. de Soissons looked at the clock with a kind of eager impatience, but said nothing.

"His magnificence is truly inconceivable," said M. de Lugeac. "It is true that some say he is fortunate at play; others affirm that the king and Madame Dubarry favor him in every way, and have gained for him two very important lawsuits; besides, it is evident that his Majesty is bewitched with him, as is all the world; and truly it may be said that everything which this Marquis touches is turned to gold. . . . If you will believe it, madame, he has brought into fashion a poor devil of a tailor, who gave him credit in his earlier days; the Marquis does not conceal it, but speaks of it quite freely. This Landry, of The Golden Scissors, whose stores are brilliant, who is now one of the richest artizans of Paris, owes his unlooked-for good fortune only to the influence of these words, repeated by all the city: '_He is the tailor of the elegant Létorière!_'"

"Truly!" said Madame Rohan-Soubise, impatiently, "all these stories resemble the tales of Perrault."

"They are much more like fairy tales," replied M. de Lugeac. "And then the description of his bedchamber! they say that his toilet set is entirely of gold chased by Gouttière, and enriched with precious stones." . . .

"And I," said the abbé, "I have heard a thousand times repeated by the Archbishop of Paris that M. de Létorière was almost the serpent of the terrestrial paradise. . . . 'If it were an affair of the government of Paris,' said this good prelate to me this morning, 'I would mask him with a cowl, like a black penitent, to hide his eyes, and choke the sound of his voice; for, in a question of precedence which interested one of my relations, this tempter has turned upside down my whole chapter-house, and fascinated my prebendaries so that they speak of nothing but him.'"

At this moment the door of the boudoir was thrown open, and a valet-de-chambre announced with a loud voice: _Monsieur the Marquis de Létorière!_

"M. de Létorière in my house! I have never received him! What audacity!" cried Madame de Rohan-Soubise, with as much astonishment as anger.

[Footnote 1: See for these details, and for other biographical particulars of Létorière, the charming _Souvenirs de Madame la Marquise de Créquy._]