de Sille,
all his trusted companions, in the great room, the plates and the ewers
filled with water of medlar, rose, and melilote for washing the hands,
were placed on credences. Gilles ate beef-, salmon-, and bream-pies;
levert-and squab-tarts; roast heron, stork, crane, peacock, bustard, and
swan; venison in verjuice; Nantes lampreys; salads of briony, hops,
beard of judas, mallow; vehement dishes seasoned with marjoram and mace,
coriander and sage, peony and rosemary, basil and hyssop, grain of
paradise and ginger; perfumed, acidulous dishes, giving one a violent
thirst; heavy pastries; tarts of elder-flower and rape; rice with milk
of hazelnuts sprinkled with cinnamon; stuffy dishes necessitating
copious drafts of beer and fermented mulberry juice, of dry wine, or
wine aged to tannic bitterness, of heady hypocras charged with cinnamon,
with almonds, and with musk, of raging liquors clouded with golden
particles--mad drinks which spurred the guests in this womanless castle
to frenzies of lechery and made them, at the end of the meal, writhe in
monstrous dreams.

"Remain the costumes to be restored," said Durtal to himself, and he
imagined Gilles and his friends, not in their damaskeened field harness,
but in their indoor costumes, their robes of peace. He visualized them
in harmony with the luxury of their surroundings. They wore glittering
vestments, pleated jackets, bellying out in a little flounced skirt at
the waist. The legs were encased in dark skin-tight hose. On their heads
were the artichoke chaperon hats like that of Charles VII in his
portrait in the Louvre. The torso was enveloped in silver-threaded
damask, which was crusted with jewelleries and bordered with marten.

He thought of the costume of the women of the time, robes of precious
tentered stuffs, with tight sleeves, great collars thrown back over the
shoulders, cramping bodices, long trains lined with fur. And as he thus
dressed an imaginary manikin, hanging ropes of heavy stones, purplish
or milky crystals, cloudy uncut gems, over the slashed corsage, a woman
slipped in, filled the robe, swelled the bodice, and thrust her head
under the two-horned steeple-headdress. From behind the pendent lace
smiled the composite features of the unknown and of Mme. Chantelouve.
Delighted, he gazed at the apparition without ever perceiving whom he
had evoked, when his cat, jumping into his lap, distracted his thoughts
and brought him back to his room.

"Well,