I knew
instantly that the stout, erect, authoritative gentleman with the
carefully trimmed gray beard, full cheeks, proud brow, fearless eyes, and
soldierly air, must be Claude de la Chatre, governor of the Orleannais
and Berri; and that the slender, delicately formed, sinuous, graceful
youth with smooth-shaven face, fine sharply cut features, intelligent
forehead, reddish hair, intent gray eyes, and mien of pretended humility,
was the governor's secretary, Montignac. La Chatre's look was frank,
open, brave. Montignac had the face of a man assuming a character, and
awaiting his opportunity, concealing his ambition and his pride,
suppressing the scorn that strove to disclose itself at the corners of
his womanish mouth. La Chatre wore a rich black velvet doublet and
breeches, and black leather riding-boots. Montignac was dressed, in
accordance with his pretence of servility, in a doublet of olive-colored
cloth, breeches of the same material, and buff boots. He sat entirely
motionless, looking across the table at his master with an almost
imperceptibly mocking air of profound attention.
Monsieur de la Chatre appeared to be in a bad humor. He gulped down his
wine hastily, seeming not to taste it. With a frown of irritation he
drew from his belt a letter, of which the seal was already broken.
Opening it with quick, angry motions, he held it before him, and
frowned the more deeply.
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