sented a beautiful woman lying on one of those beds of purple
and gold on which the ancients used to take their repasts; all that the
Romans had most recherche in meat, in fish, and in fruit, dormice in
honey, red mullets, lobsters from Stromboli, and pomegranates from
Sicily, ornamented the table, while on the ground some dogs were
disputing for a pheasant, while the air was full of birds, which had
carried off from the table, figs, strawberries, and cherries. Magdalene
held in her hand, filled with white liquor, one of those
singularly-shaped glasses which Petronius has described in his feasts.

Fully occupied with this important work, the king merely raised his eyes
as they passed by the convent of the Jacobins, from which vespers was
sounding on every bell, and of which every window and door was closed.

But a hundred steps further on, an attentive observer would have seen
him throw a more curious glance on a fine-looking house on his left,
which, built in the midst of a charming garden, opened on the road. This
house was called Bel-Esbat, and, unlike the convent, had every window
open with the exception of one, before which hung a blind. As the king
passed, this blind moved perceptibly; Henri smiled at D'Epernon, and
then fell to work on another picture. This was the sin of luxury. The
artist had represented this in such glowing colors, and had painted the
sin with so much courage and minuteness, that we can only describe a
small part of it, viz.:--that Magdalene's guardian angel was flying back
to heaven affrighted, and hiding his face in his hands. All this
occupied the king so much, that he never noticed an image of vanity who
rode by his carriage. It was a pity; for St. Maline was very happy and
proud on his horse, as he rode so near that he could hear the king say
to his dog, "Gently, M. Love, you get in my way;" or to M. le Duc
d'Epernon, "Duke, I believe these horses will break my neck." From time
to time, however, St. Maline glanced at De Loignac, who was too much
accustomed to these honors not to be indifferent to them; and he could
not but feel the superiority of his calm and modest demeanor, and even
would try to imitate, for a few minutes, until the thought would recur
again, "I am seen and looked at, and people say, 'Who is that happy
gentleman who accompanies the king?'" St. Maline's happiness seemed
likely to last for a long time, for the horses, covered with harness
heavy with gold and embroidery, a