Moved by the universal impulse, Diane and Lydia, attended by Le Ber du Chesne, the Chevalier de Crisasi, and the Sieur d’Ordieux, started to attend the Council meeting. Nanon, thoroughly enjoying the occasion, walked behind. Nothing escaped the notice of her quick eyes or the comment of her unruly tongue. “It is well said that good blood never lies. Our little partridge holds her own with the best; those who have taste turn their heads to look at her. Well they may; a great lady is not a sight to be met with every day in this part of the world, where every trader’s wife and daughter would like to perk their heads with their betters. It is an _officier bleu_, no less, or some great noble at the King’s court, who should claim our demoiselle as his bride, and think himself lucky to get her besides.” Diane’s gown of heavy coffee-colored brocade had a train which swayed gently behind, not dragging, but caught up gracefully and drawn through both pocket holes, displaying the laced skirt and the pretty shoes on which jewelled buckles glittered. Her corsage was long waisted and close fitting; clouds of lace hung from the sleeves, while a lace fichu was crossed over the bosom and fastened by some fragrant crimson roses. On either side of Mademoiselle de Monesthrol walked the Chevalier and the Sieur d’Ordieux. The first was a remarkably elegant and distinguished-looking man. The thin dark face set within its frame of powdered hair was somewhat languid and supercilious; the melancholy eyes were almost oriental in their depth and intensity of expression. The Marquis de Crisasi and his brother, the Chevalier, were Sicilian noblemen who had compromised themselves by taking the part of France against Spain. Their immense possessions were confiscated, and by a sudden turn of fortune’s wheel they had been precipitated from the highest pinnacle of prosperity down to bitter adversity. They had been sent out to Canada in command of French troops. The favor proved, in this case as in many others, a most unreliable dependence. The Marquis had been appointed Governor of Three Rivers, a poor post, where it was almost impossible to keep from starving. The Chevalier, who was regarded by his contemporaries as a model of every knightly virtue and accomplishment, neglected and forsaken by his friends at the Court, waited for those marks of royal favor which he was never to receive. “For M. le Chevalier, his day is past,” decided Le Ber promptly; “those who are cast off by the Court have no future.” But the Chevalier was one of Madame de Monesthrol’s warmest personal friends, valued by her for his high breeding and personal worth.