The Duc de Luxembourg,[221] son of the celebrated marshal, had a young and pretty wife,[222] who suffered, like a good many other ladies about the Court, from excessive sensibility, a fact which was “known to everybody in France except her husband.” On the occasion of a visit of the Court to Marly, both M. de Luxembourg and his consort were invited to take part in a masquerade. _Monsieur le Duc_ undertook to provide the former with what he declared to be a highly original costume, and, since he enjoyed the reputation of being a great authority on such matters, his offer was gladly accepted. Thereupon the malicious prince proceeded to array his unconscious victim in various fantastic garments, which he crowned with a gigantic pair of antlers, which almost touched the candelabra. Thus attired, he was conducted into the ballroom, where, by a sudden shifting of his mask, his identity was quickly revealed. When the company perceived who it was who was thus parading the emblem of a deceived husband, a great shout of laughter rang through the room, which redoubled when the luckless Luxembourg, mistaking the hilarity which his appearance aroused for a tribute to the originality of his costume, bowed repeatedly. In his youth, _Monsieur le Duc_, like most of his family, was very much addicted to gallantry. When his affections were engaged, nothing cost too much, and “he made some amends for a shape which resembled a gnome rather than a man.”[223] “He was grace, magnificence, gallantry personified--a Jupiter transformed into a shower of gold. Now, he disguised himself as a lackey; another time, as a female vendor of articles for the toilette; anon, in some other fashion. He was the most ingenious man in the world.”[224] Among the great ladies who smiled upon him was the lovely and fascinating Gabrielle de Thianges, who became, in 1670, the wife of the Duc de Nevers, the brother of the famous Mancini sisters.[225] “Few women,” says Saint-Simon, “have surpassed her in beauty. Hers was of every kind, with a singularity which charmed.” And he declares that when she died, at the age of sixty, she was “still perfectly beautiful.” If we are to believe Madame de Caylus, the duchess, after the fall of her aunt, Madame de Montespan, had, at that lady’s suggestion, made an attempt to capture the affections of the King, “in order to keep the royal favour in the family,” and that it was only upon the failure of this intrigue that she resolved to content herself with _Monsieur le Duc_. But, whatever may have been the lady’s feelings towards him, _Monsieur le Duc_ was desperately enamoured of her, and the fertility of resource which he displayed and the sums he appears to have expended in order to enjoy her society were really astonishing.