A few weeks later, a splendid ball was given by the Prince de Valdimer, a wealthy and luxury-loving foreigner, ambassador of one of the Northern powers. Every person who imparted any ray of brilliancy to the somewhat dismal court of Louis XIII, every bearer of an illustrious name in France, was bidden to this festivity. The Comte de Marvejols had not been forgotten. It was hardly possible to move in the salons of the vast mansion which the Prince de Valdimer had hired, and which he had caused to be decorated and illuminated on a most magnificent scale. The ladies, dressed in rich gowns, were covered with diamonds, pearls, and jewels. The men, who were more coquettish in those days than we are to-day, also wore laces, plumes, and precious stones on their garments. Then there were the newly rich merchants, the financiers, the farmers-general, who sought to disguise their origin by arraying themselves in sumptuous vestments of gold and silver brocade. A fact that gave additional importance to this function in the eyes of many persons was that it was said that the Cardinal de Richelieu had promised to attend. The crowd was therefore so great that one sometimes had to wait a long while before going from one room to another, if one did not wish to be suffocated. A young woman of rare beauty, holding her elegant figure gracefully erect, and leaning on the arm of a man of forty, whose face wore a severe but noble expression, led her escort into a window recess as if in search of air, saying: "In heaven's name, monsieur le marquis, let us not mingle with that crowd; let us wait here a moment, where we may perhaps be able to breathe! Mon Dieu! what a multitude of people! the whole court and the whole city are at this fête!" "If you dread the heat, if this crowded hall has no charms for you, Valentine, we will go away." "Oh, no! I wish to stay; it is a very brilliant affair; but I would like to rest a moment here." "As you please." "Why, here is Monsieur le Marquis de Santoval!" cried a little hunchbacked old man, who held his head erect, however, and whose eyes were instinct with cunning and good humor, addressing the escort of the lady who had taken refuge in the window recess; "have I the honor of saluting madame la marquise?" "Yes, my dear De Noirteuil," replied Monsieur de Santoval, shaking hands with the little old man. "Ah! present me, I pray you." "Madame, allow me to present Monsieur de Noirteuil, a gentleman from the South--like myself; moreover, a clever diplomatist who has often placed his talents at the service of his country, and always with success." "What would you have--I had nothing else to offer my country; it would have none of my person!--But allow me to congratulate you, Santoval! You are a lucky mortal, 'pon my honor! I have heard your wife's beauty extolled, but I see that what I have heard is far below the truth!" "You are gallant, as always, De Noirteuil!"