THE ADIEUX
Létorière entered.
The surprise of the four spectators was at its height; they stood
petrified, and looked at each other with astonishment.
The Marquis was dressed with the most remarkable elegance. He wore a
coat of sky-blue velvet, embroidered with gold and silver leaves of
extreme delicacy; his vest of silver cloth was spangled with gold, as
were also his small-clothes, of the same color as his coat; his
rose-colored silk stockings were clocked with gold; his shoes had red
heels; a sword mounted in gold, covered with ornaments of silver, most
beautifully wrought; a shoulder-knot of blue, silver, and gold, and a
chapeau, with white plumes, which the Marquis held in his hand,
completed this magnificent costume.
This complete metamorphosis had already upset all their conjectures, or
rather confounded all the recollections of the councillors and Martha;
but what still more excited their astonishment, was the impossibility of
finding in Létorière's face any of the expressions which had struck
them individually.
Thus, in this charming gentleman so magnificently dressed, with an air
at once spiritual and malicious, with such elegant manners and such
perfect grace, although it was a little effeminate, the baron could not
recognize his uncouth huntsman, so careless and _negligé_; . . . the
doctor sought in vain his learned grammarian, who looked like a
half-starved poet; and Madame Martha as futilely tried to see in the
black and brilliant eyes of the Marquis, the timid and downcast look of
the youthful quoter of Scripture.
Létorière felt the necessity of putting an end to the amazement of his
judges. He saluted them profoundly, and said:
"May I be permitted, gentlemen, here to express to you my profound
gratitude, and to declare it to each of you?"
The three Germans looked at each other in dismay, and awaited in silence
the termination of this strange scene.
Létorière advanced towards Madame Flachsinfingen. Taking her hand with
a movement of the most amiable gallantry, he raised it to his lips, and
said to her in a sweet and grave voice: "I knew beforehand, madame, that
in order to merit your interest, to reach the level of your noble
character, it would be necessary to have, like you, a pure and religious
soul . . . in showing myself to you under this exterior, I have not
deceived. I did, for a moment, borrow your language, madame; and believe
me, it is too noble and too beautiful for me ever to forget it. . . ."
And he saluted her respectfully.
"As for you, Monsieur le Baron, in order to prove to you that I am still
worthy to take part in the brotherhood of joyful huntsmen, I can do no
better way than to beg you to come next year to pass St. Hubert at my
castle of Obbreuse. . . . If you will deign to accompany him," said the
Marquis to Dr. Sphex, "we will continue our commentaries on our favorite
poet. In short, gentlemen, formerly I liked the chase, reading the
ancient poets and the Scripture merely from inclination . . . but now I
shall like them from the remembrance of your precious interest." . . .
Thus speaking, Létorière saluted the three councillors, who remained
dumb, and went out.
Radiant with this success, which made his marriage with Mademoiselle de
Soissons sure, Létorière went home, where he found a note which the
princess had sent to him by a courier:
"_The King is dying. . . . My liberty, our future, are threatened. . . .
Come! come!_" . . .
Sinking from the highest hope to the depths of anguish, the Marquis
instantly started for Paris.