The ceilings of these rooms were superbly decorated with golden panels, on which were painted depictions of an ancient victory containing images of helmets, lances, cutlasses and pikes; the walls were hung with magnificent tapestries, and the parquet floors were covered with sumptuous rugs—all ornaments that I would have enjoyed, I think, had I not been so worried, both about the predicament I found myself in and about the august presence before whom I was to appear. Samson walked quietly beside me, throwing me such piteous looks that my throat knotted up. I was, moreover, horribly ashamed to appear before His Royal Highness looking so ridiculous in my doublet, and would have preferred to have been wearing a simple black velvet costume, like my brother, rather than displaying this repaired clothing to the prince. At first I couldn’t see the Duc d’Anjou, since he was surrounded by a group of brilliantly clad young courtiers, who, at our entrance, turned round to stare at us with as much curiosity as if we had been strange beasts brought that very morning from the Americas, and spoke quietly among themselves, shaking their heads, their bodies in constant movement, stroking their beards, rolling their hips, their soft hands caressing the ribbons, curls and pins in their hair, and exclaimed every other minute, “It weighs on my conscience!”
