We quote the following scene from one of the Tales recently published
in three volumes with the general cognomen of _Chantilly_. It is from
the longest and most successful of the stories called "D'Espignac,"
in the time of Henri III., and, as our extract shows, the scenes and
sketches exhibit considerable talent, and a certain graphic minuteness
which has become very popular in modern novels. The tale itself is not
to our purpose, but we promise the reader a _petit souper_ of horrors
from its perusal, especially to those who woo terror to delight them.
The pen is young and feminine, and of high promise. The occasion of the
following scene is an interview of one of the characters with Henri.
"It was a small dark apartment, hung round with tapestry, the ceiling
richly decorated with massive ornaments of carved oak, and the floor
covered with a dark-coloured carpet of Turkey manufacture, so thick and
soft that the footsteps fell unheard as they advanced over it. It was
here that the monarch usually spent his leisure hours, and various were
the objects indicative of his tastes and habits scattered around, in a
confusion which completely put to flight all ideas of study or devotion
in the mind of the visiter. On a small table near the door were strewn
divers preparations for the toilette, and cosmetics for improving the
complexion, of which the King used quantities almost incredible, all
prepared by his own hand; and the mixing and arranging of these formed
his greatest delight and amusement. In the recesses on each side the
window stood two highly-polished ebony cases, which Catherine de Medicis
his mother had brought from Italy, for containing books and holy relics;
but for this they were totally useless to the present royal owner, who
applied them to a far different purpose. On the lower shelf next the
ground, were arranged small ornamented baskets, in each of which, on
satin cushions, reposed in regal luxury a litter of spaniel puppies,
which, together with their pampered mother, did not fail to salute with
deafening noise any stranger who entered. The messes, medicines, and
food of these little favourites completely filled the upper shelves, or
only disputed ground with the chains and collars of their predecessors,
a few of whom, rescued from oblivion, stood on the top, seemingly ready
as in life to fly out with inhospitable fury on the approach of
intruders.
"The upper compartments of the window were of painted glass, and cast a
dismal light through the apartment, while the lower panes were darkened
by the hawk-mews raised on the terrace, that the King might enjoy the
daily satisfaction of seeing the birds fed before his eyes. On a table
near the window stood an inkstand, with various implements for writing,
but from the sorry condition in which they appeared, and the confusion
prevailing around, it was evident they were but seldom used. Small was
the space, however, allotted to such unimportant objects. His Majesty
had been deeply engaged during the morning tending a sick puppy, which
having washed in sweet water, and combed with a gilt comb, he had
adorned with ribbons, and placed in a basket by his side; mixing a
scented paste for whitening the hands, preparing a wash for the skin,
binding the broken leg of a wounded merlin, and finally seeking
relief from such engrossing pursuits in the favourite recreation of
disburdening a precious missal of its exquisite illuminations, in order
to ornament the walls and enliven the chamber! It was at this table
that Henri himself was seated, with his head resting on his hands, and
apparently buried in thought. The noisy greeting of the spaniels as
La Vallée entered caused him to start, and he turned towards the door
an anxious unquiet look, bespeaking distrust and apprehension, which,
however, quickly changed to one of pleasure as he heard the name and
recognised the features of his visiter.
"The King was at that time in the very flower of his age, and yet
he appeared no longer young. The cares of royalty, the murder of the
Guises, had planted many a deep and lasting furrow on his brow, which
time would have otherwise withheld for many years. His pallid cheek
and sunken eye told of a mind but ill at ease. No art, no charm could
restore the bloom and freshness which remorse for the past and fear for
the future had long ago dispelled, never to return. And yet, with that
sweet self-deception which all are so disposed to practise, he sought
to banish reflection and beguile alarm in the pursuit of all kinds of
frivolous amusements unworthy of his rank or station, and fancied he
had succeeded in chasing care if for a moment he ceased to think.
"His costume even now was foppish and _recherché_. Much time had
evidently been spent in adjusting the drooping leathers of his jewelled
toque, and no pains had been spared in properly disposing the plaits
of his _fraise_ and ruffles, or in arranging the folds of his
broidered mantle. The snow-white slippers, with the sky-blue roses, the
silken hose and braided doublet, seemed better fitted for the parade of
the courtly saloon than the privacy of the closet. The hand he extended
to the Count was like that of a youthful beauty, rather than of one who
had once wielded sword with the bravest. Every finger was adorned with
a costly jewel, which flashed and sparkled in the light as he waved his
hand in token of welcome, and, pointing to a chair, bade his visiter be
seated."
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