himself with a gauze robe above his habit; but such a slight disguise was for himself alone; everybody else was completely disguised.  M. and Madame de Beauvilliers were there perfectly disguised.  When I say they were there, those who knew the Court will admit that I have said more than enough.  I had the pleasure of seeing them, and of quietly laughing with them.  At all these balls the King made people dance who had long since passed the age for doing so.  As for the Comte de Brionne and the Chevalier de Sully, their dancing was so perfect that there was no age for them.

CHAPTER XXXIV

In the midst of all this gaiety, that is to say on the 12th of February, 1706, one of our generals, of whom I have often spoken, I mean M. de Vendome, arrived at Marly.  He had not quitted Italy since succeeding to Marechal de Villeroy, after the affair of Cremona.  His battles, such as they were, the places he had taken, the authority he had assumed, the reputation he had usurped, his incomprehensible successes with the King, the certainty of the support he leaned on,—­all this inspired him with the desire to come and enjoy at Court a situation so brilliant, and which so far surpassed what he had a right to expect.  But before speaking of the reception which was given him, and of the incredible ascendancy he took, let me paint him from the life a little more completely than I have yet done.

Vendome was of ordinary height, rather stout, but vigorous and active:  with a very noble countenance and lofty mien.  There was much natural grace in his carriage and words; he had a good deal of innate wit, which he had not cultivated, and spoke easily, supported by a natural boldness, which afterwards turned to the wildest audacity; he knew the world and the Court; was above all things an admirable courtier; was polite when necessary, but insolent when he dared—­familiar with common people—­in reality, full of the most ravenous pride.  As his rank rose and his favour increased, his obstinacy, and pig-headedness increased too, so that at last he would listen to no advice whatever, and was inaccessible to all, except a small number of familiars and valets.  No one better than he knew the subserviency of the French character, or took more advantage of it.  Little by little he accustomed his subalterns, and then from one to the other all his army, to call him nothing but “Monseigneur,” and “Your Highness.”  In time the gangrene spread, and even lieutenant-generals and the most distinguished people did not dare to address him in any other manner.