ly gilded frames; in every
direction could be seen candelabra, mirrors, and furniture and fittings
of the most sumptuous character; in every direction, also, were guards
of the proudest military bearing, with floating plumes, crowds of
attendants and courtiers in the ante-chambers and upon the staircases.
In the courtyards, where the grass had formerly been allowed to
luxuriate, as if the ungrateful Mazarin had thought it a good idea to
let the Parisians perceive the solitude and disorder were, with misery
and despair, the fit accompaniments of fallen monarchy; the immense
courtyards, formerly silent and desolate, were now thronged with
courtiers whose horses were pacing and prancing to and fro. The
carriages were filled with young and beautiful women, who awaited the
opportunity of saluting, as she passed, the daughter of that daughter of
France who, during her widowhood and exile, had sometimes gone without
wood for her fire, and bread for her table, whom the meanest attendant
at the chateau had treated with indifference and contempt. And so, the
Madame Henriette once more returned to the Louvre, with her heart more
swollen with bitter recollections than her daughter's, whose disposition
was fickle and forgetful, with triumph and delight. She knew but too
well this brilliant reception was paid to the happy mother of a king
restored to his throne, a throne second to none in Europe, while the
worse than indifferent reception she had before met with was paid
to her, the daughter of Henry IV., as a punishment for having been
unfortunate. After the princess had been installed in their apartments
and had rested, the gentlemen who had formed their escort, having, in
like manner, recovered from their fatigue, they resumed their accustomed
habits and occupations. Raoul began by setting off to see his father,
who had left for Blois. He then tried to see M. d'Artagnan, who,
however, being engaged in the organization of a military household for
the king, could not be found anywhere. Bragelonne next sought out De
Guiche, but the count was occupied in a long conference with his tailors
and with Manicamp, which consumed his whole time. With the Duke of
Buckingham he fared still worse, for the duke was purchasing horses
after horses, diamonds upon diamonds. He monopolized every embroiderer,
jeweler, and tailor that Paris could boast of. Between De Guiche and
himself a vigorous contest ensued, invariably a courteous one, in which,
in o