Near a fireplace of most beautiful red antique marble, whose grate was ornamented with a garland of flowers and fruit, made of precious stones, was a little bed _à la duchesse_, a perfect miniature, with curtains, canopies, and coverlets, and feathered plumes on the dais; nothing was wanting. A very diminutive black spaniel, marked with tan, whose long silken hair was coquettishly braided with cherry and silver ribbons, slept on the couch, half hidden under the eider-down cover. A saucer of royal old blue Sèvres china, containing macaroons, crumbled into milk of almonds, awaited the delicate _Puff_ on his awaking. Madame, the Princess of Rohan-Soubise, her niece, Mlle. de Soissons, the Count de Lugeac and the Abbé of Arcueil, were the actors in the following scene: M. de Lugeac had just come in. "How much you lost, madame, by not being at the brilliant concert yesterday! you would have witnessed the most extraordinary thing in the world!" "What was it?" demanded the abbé. "Have Jean Jacques and Arouet embraced each other in public? Or have they sung the praises of the chancellor?" "Tell us at once of this fine affair," said Madame Rohan-Soubise. "Yesterday, at the concert, M. de Létorière was applauded--yes, applauded to the skies" . . . said M. de Lugeac, with an evident feeling of jealousy. "Applauded? As M. de Létorière is neither a prince of the blood, nor a comedian, at least so far as I know, I do not see what title he has to be applauded," . . . dryly said Madame Rohan-Soubise, who, without known motive, and undoubtedly by presentiment, cordially detested the Marquis. Mlle. de Soissons blushed deeply, and broke a thread of her embroidery in an impatient movement which was not perceived by her aunt. "M. de Létorière was applauded for his coat," . . . replied the count. "What a ridiculous dress! . . . This fine Marquis must always have people talking about him," said the abbé. "Not ridiculous . . . but in truth so magnificent, and at the same time so elegant, that even I, who will not acknowledge myself a strong friend of the Marquis, will be generous enough to allow, that I never in all my life saw anything more charming than he, dressed as he was. . . . But when one devotes one's self to such follies, it is at least satisfactory to obtain such success." . . . "Tell us about this miraculous toilette," said Madame Rohan-Soubise; "I will tell you afterwards another story about M. de Létorière, which will furnish a curious contrast to all his present magnificence." "And I, also," . . . said the abbé. "No later than this morning, the Archbishop of Paris told me a hundred tales of this fine Marquis!"