ing glances at his brother and at his
sons, but whatever complaint or sarcasm may have trembled upon his lips,
was effectually stifled by De St. Quentin's ministrations. With the
nonchalance born of long custom, the official covered the royal chin
with soap, drew the razor swiftly round it, and sponged over the surface
with spirits of wine. A nobleman then helped to draw on the king's
black velvet _haut-de-chausses_, a second assisted in arranging them,
while a third drew the night-gown over the shoulders, and handed the
royal shirt, which had been warming before the fire. His
diamond-buckled shoes, his gaiters, and his scarlet inner vest were
successively fastened by noble courtiers, each keenly jealous of his own
privilege, and over the vest was placed the blue ribbon with the cross
of the Holy Ghost in diamonds, and that of St. Louis tied with red.
To one to whom the sight was new, it might have seemed strange to see
the little man, listless, passive, with his eyes fixed thoughtfully on
the burning logs, while this group of men, each with a historic name,
bustled round him, adding a touch here and a touch there, like a knot of
children with a favourite doll. The black undercoat was drawn on, the
cravat of rich lace adjusted, the loose overcoat secured, two
handkerchiefs of costly point carried forward upon an enamelled saucer,
and thrust by separate officials into each side pocket, the silver and
ebony cane laid to hand, and the monarch was ready for the labours of
the day.

During the half-hour or so which had been occupied in this manner there
had been a constant opening and closing of the chamber door, and a
muttering of names from the captain of the guard to the attendant in
charge, and from the attendant in charge to the first gentleman of the
chamber, ending always in the admission of some new visitor. Each as he
entered bowed profoundly three times, as a salute to majesty, and then
attached himself to his own little clique or coterie, to gossip in a low
voice over the news, the weather, and the plans of the day. Gradually
the numbers increased, until by the time the king's frugal first
breakfast of bread and twice watered wine had been carried in, the large
square chamber was quite filled with a throng of men many of whom had
helped to make the epoch the most illustrious of French history.
Here, close by the king, was the harsh but energetic Louvois,
all-powerful now since the death of his rival Colbert,