The convalescence of the Queen was the signal for a succession of festivities, and the whole winter was spent in gaiety and dissipation; banquets, ballets, and hunting-parties succeeded each other with bewildering rapidity; and so magnificent were several of the Court festivals that even some of the gravest historians of the time did not disdain to record them. The most brilliant of the whole, however, and that which will best serve to exemplify the taste of the period, was the ballet to which allusion has already been made as given in honour of the King by his royal consort, and in which Marie de Medicis herself appeared. In order to heighten its effect she had selected fifteen of the most beautiful women of the Court, Madame de Verneuil being, according to the royal promise, one of the number; and the first part of the exhibition took place at the Louvre. The entertainment commenced with the entrance of Apollo and the nine Muses into the great hall of the palace, which was thronged with native and foreign princes, ambassadors, and ministers, in the midst of whom sat the King with the Papal Nuncio on his right hand. The god and his attendants sang the glory of the monarch, the pacificator of Europe; and each stanza terminated with the somewhat fulsome and ungraceful words: "Il faut que tout vous rende hommage, Grand Roi, miracle de notre âge." Thence the whole gay and gallant company proceeded to the Hôtel de Guise, where the eight maids of honour of the Queen performed the second act; and this was no sooner concluded than the brilliant revellers removed to the archiepiscopal palace, where the Queen appeared in person upon the scene, with her suite divided into four quadrilles. Marie herself represented Venus, and led by the hand César de Vendôme[158] attired as Cupid; when the splendour of her jewels produced so startling an effect that murmurs of astonishment and admiration ran through the hall. Gratified at the sensation caused by the unexampled magnificence and grace of his royal consort, Henry smilingly inquired of the Nuncio "if he had ever before seen so fine a squadron?" "_Bellissimo e pericolosissimo_!" was the reply of the gallant prelate. Each of the ladies composing the party of the Queen represented a _virtue_,\ an arrangement which, when it is remembered that Madame de Verneuil was one of the chosen, rendered their attributes at least equivocal. This royal ballet was nevertheless considered worthy of a poetical immortality by Berthault,[159] a popular bard of the day, who left little behind him worthy of preservation, but who enjoyed great vogue among the fashionables of the Court at that period. Its most important result was, however, the marriage of Concini and Leonora; to which, in consideration of the honour done to the favourite by the Queen, Henry withdrew his opposition; even authorizing his royal consort to bestow rich presents upon the bride, and to celebrate the nuptials with considerable ceremony.[160]