An Enemy to the King | Page 9

attendants died out of hearing.
I had not even seen her face, save the white, curved chin and the
delicate mouth. I had only beheld her lithe figure, felt its heaving as I
carried her, had my cold cheek warmed for a moment by her breath,
heard her provoking laugh and her voice, rich with vitality. Yet her
charm had caught me and remained with me. I could not, nor did I try
to throw it off. I was possessed by a craving to see her again, to know
more of her. Already I made this unknown the heroine of my
prospective love affair. I could soon find her, after gaining the entrée of
the court; and I could identify her by her voice as well as by her
probable recognition of me. Heaving a deep sigh, I left the place of our
meeting and found my way back to the inn. Thanks to the presence of
some late drinkers, I got in without much pounding on the door; and in
my little white-washed chamber I dreamt of soft eyes that glowed
through the holes of a lady's mask.
CHAPTER II.
LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE
The next morning was bright, and not too cold. At eleven I approached
the great gate of the Louvre, wearing the bold demeanor of a man
determined not to be abashed, even by the presence of royalty. Yet

within me there was some slight trepidation lest I should, on first
setting foot within the precincts of a palace, betray my rustic bringing
up.
Others were being admitted at the gate, and some were coming out,
both the King's council and the reception having been over for some
time. A page, who had been waiting just inside the court, came out as I
approached, and asked me if I were M. de Launay. Astonished, that he
should have so easily picked me out, I replied that I was. He then said
that he had come to conduct me to Monsieur the Marquis de Quelus,
and I followed him into the great courtyard of the Louvre.
Before me was the imposing façade of the palace. Around me was an
animated scene of well-dressed gentlemen coming and going, meeting
one another forming little groups for a moment's interchange of news
or inquiries, and as quickly breaking up. There were soldiers on guard,
officers on duty and off, courtiers in brilliant doublets, dazzling ruffs,
rich hose; gentlemen with gay plumes, costly cloaks, jewelled
sword-hilts. There were pages, strutting about with messages; lackeys,
belonging only to the greatest nobles or royal favorites. Everybody,
whether gentleman, soldier, household officer, priest, page, or valet,
went with an air of great consequence, with head high in air, every step,
expression, and attitude proclaiming a sense of vast superiority to the
rest of the world. It was as if people attached to the court were an
elevated race of beings; or as if the court were Olympus, and these
were gods and the servitors of gods, who, very properly, regarded
mortals with disdain. Each man, too, maintained not only this lofty air
as befitting one of the court, but also an aspect of individual
preciousness as towards his fellow divinities. There was, in many a face
or bearing, an expressed resentment, in advance, of any affront that
might be offered. The soldiers swaggered, the gentlemen showed
self-esteem in every motion. Nevertheless, there was much good nature
and courtesy in the salutations, fragments of conversation, and
exchanges of gossip. Leaving the sunlit courtyard behind, the page
showed me up a fine stairway, where some gentlemen tarried in little
parties, while others ascended or descended. We passed through large
galleries, the same animation continuing everywhere. I had no time, as

we passed, to examine the superb hangings and fanciful decorations of
the galleries in detail. The clothes of the courtiers, the brilliant display
of velvet, silk, furs, and the finest linen, of every known hue, made a
continually changing, moving panorama of color.
We approached, at last, a group extraordinarily radiant in attire. It was
composed of very young men, some of whom had hardly yet acquired
the beard required by the universal fashion. Even at a distance I could
see that their cheeks were painted, could note their affectation of
feminine attitudes, could smell the perfumes with which they had
deluged their bodies. These were some of the favorites of the King, and
more of the imitators of the favorites. No wonder that Bussy d'Amboise
and the sturdy gentlemen of the King's ungainly brother, Anjou, had a
manly detestation for these bedaubed effeminates, and sought
opportunities to extirpate them with the sword. Yet these dainty youths,
one of whom was De Quelus, who now came forward to meet me, were
not cowards.
The young Marquis wore a