"You have it, Sir," said Monsieur Bontems affably. "A young gentleman who shows so much interest in His Majesty's and Monseigneur's health may be pardoned even that. But you are a little mistaken in saying 'buckle.' His Majesty is frequently pleased to clasp his own garters; it is my privilege to unclasp them in the evening." "Would you kindly explain to me, that I may translate to my sister, His Majesty's mode of life during each day?" "Sir, I shall have the utmost pleasure," replied Monsieur Bontems, laying his hand Upon his heart. "Madam," he continued, addressing himself to Celia, though she could understand him only through the medium of Philip, "first thing in the morning, when I rise from the watch-bed which I occupy in the august chamber of my Sovereign, having noiselessly dressed in the antechamber, I and Monsieur De St. Quentin, first gentleman of the chamber, reverently approach his royal bed, and presume to arouse our Sovereign from his slumbers. Then Monsieur De St. Quentin turns his back to the curtains, and placing his hands behind him, respectfully presents the royal wigs, properly curled and dressed, for His Majesty's selection." "Pardon my interrupting you; I thought the King's attendants never turned their backs upon him?" "Sir, His Majesty cannot be seen without a wig! Profanity!" cried Monsieur Bontems, looking horrified. "This is the only part of our service in which we are constrained to turn our ignoble backs upon our most illustrious Master." "I beg your pardon, and understand you now. Pray proceed." "When the King has selected the wig which he is pleased to wear, St. Quentin puts away the others; and then, His Majesty placing his wig on his august head with his own royal hands, he indicates to me by a signal that he is ready for the curtains to be undrawn. As soon as I have undrawn the curtains, there is the familiar _entrée_. This is attended by the Princes of the Blood, and by His Majesty's physicians. Then I pour into the hands of my Sovereign a few drops of spirits of wine, and the Duke d'Aumont,[8] first Lord of the Bedchamber, offers the holy water. Now His Majesty rises, and I present his slippers. After putting on his dressing-gown, if it be winter, His Majesty goes to the fire. The first _entrée_ follows. The King shaves on alternate days. Monsieur De St. Quentin has the high honor of removing the royal beard, and washing with spirits of wine and water our Sovereign's august chin. I hold the glass, while His Majesty wipes his face with a rich towel. Then, while His Majesty's dresses, the _grande entrée_ takes place. His Most Christian Majesty is assisted in dressing by the Grand Master of the Robes, Monsieur d'Aumont, a Marquis (graciously chosen by the Sovereign), Monsieur De St. Quentin, my humble self, three valets, and two pages. Thus, as you will see, many attendants of the Crown are allowed the felicity of approaching near to the person of our most illustrious Master."