Upon his toilette appeared brushes and combs, which might have claimed dismissal as past the term of service, over-worn hats and doublets, dog-leashes, leather-belts, and other such paltry articles; amongst which, lay at random, as it seemed, the great diamond called Sanci—­the three rubies termed the Three Brothers of Antwerp—­another great diamond called the Lamp of Flanders, and other precious stones of scarcely inferior value and rarity.  This extraordinary display somewhat resembled the character of the Duke himself, who mixed cruelty with justice, magnanimity with meanness of spirit, economy with extravagance, and liberality with avarice; being, in fact, consistent in nothing excepting in his obstinate determination to follow the opinion he had once formed, in every situation of things, and through all variety of risks.

[The dialogue, interest, and situations now become too involved for detached extracts, except in a few characteristic sketches.  Among these is one of Rene, the minstrel monarch of Provence, and father of Margaret; and a beautiful autumnal picture of Provence:]

Born of royal parentage, and with high pretensions, Rene had at no period of his life been able to match his fortunes to his claims.  Of the kingdoms to which he asserted right, nothing remained in his possession but the county of Provence itself, a fair and friendly principality, but diminished by the many claims which France had acquired upon portions of it by advances of money to supply the personal expenses of its master, and by other portions, which Burgundy, to whom Rene had been a prisoner, held in pledge for his ransom.  In his youth he engaged in more than one military enterprise, in the hope of attaining some part of the territory of which he was styled sovereign.  His courage is not impeached, but fortune did not smile on his military adventures; and he seems at last to have become sensible, that the power of admiring and celebrating warlike merit, is very different from possessing that quality.  In fact, Rene was a prince of very moderate parts, endowed with a love of the fine arts, which he carried to extremity, and a degree of good-humour, which never permitted him to repine at fortune, but rendered its possessor happy, when a prince of keener feelings would have died of despair.  This insouciant, light-tempered, gay, and thoughtless disposition, conducted Rene, free from all the passions which embitter life, and often shorten it, to a hale and mirthful old age.  Even domestic losses, which often affect those who are proof against mere reverses of fortune, made no deep impression on the feelings of this cheerful old monarch.  Most of his children had died young; Rene took it not to heart.  His daughter Margaret’s marriage with the powerful Henry of England was considered a connexion much above the fortunes of the King of the Troubadours.  But in the issue, instead of Rene deriving any splendour from the match, he was involved in the misfortunes of his daughter, and repeatedly