Notre Dame de Paris - Bartleby.com

Beside her stood a young man whose native air of breeding was somewhat heavily tinged with vanity
and bravado—one of those handsome fellows whom all women are agreed in adoring, let wiseacres and
physiognomists shake their heads as they will. This young cavalier wore the brilliant uniform of a captain
of the King’s archers, which too closely resembles the costume of Jupiter, which the reader has had an
opportunity of admiring at the beginning of this history, for us to inflict on him a second description.
The damoiselles were seated, some just inside the room, some on the balcony, on cushions of Utrecht
velvet with gold corners, or on elaborately carved oak stools. Each of them held on her knees part of a
great piece of needlework on which they were all engaged, while a long end of it lay spread over the
matting which covered the floor.
They were talking among themselves with those whispers and stifled bursts of laughter which are the
sure signs of a young man’s presence among a party of girls. The young man himself who set all these
feminine wiles in motion, appeared but little impressed thereby, and while the pretty creatures vied with
one another in their endeavours to attract his attention, he was chiefly occupied in polishing the buckle of
his sword-belt with his doeskin glove.
From time to time the old lady addressed him in a low voice, and he answered as well as might be with
a sort of awkward and constrained politeness. From the smiles and significant gestures of Madame
Aloïse, and the meaning glances she threw at her daughter, Fleur-de-Lys, as she talked to the captain, it
was evident that the conversation turned on some betrothal already accomplished or a marriage in the
near future between the young man and the daughter of the house. Also, from the cold and embarrassed
air of the officer, it was plainly to be seen that, as far as he was concerned, there was no longer any
question of love. His whole demeanour expressed a degree of constraint and ennui such as a modern
subaltern would translate in the admirable language of to-day by, “What a beastly bore!”
The good lady, infatuated like many another mother with her daughter, never noticed the officer’s lack
of enthusiasm; but gave herself infinite pains to call his attention in a whisper to the matchless grace with
which Fleur-de-Lys used her needle or unwound her silk thread.
“Look, little cousin,” said she, pulling him by the sleeve and speaking into his ear, “look at her
now—now, as she bends.”
“Quite so,” replied the young man; and he fell back into his former icy and abstracted silence.
The next moment he had to lean down again to Madame Aloïse. “Have you ever,” said she, “seen a
blither and more engaging creature than your intended? She is all lily-white and golden. Those hands,
how perfect and accomplished! and that neck has it not all the ravishing curves of a swan’s? How I envy
you at times! and how fortunate you are in being a man, naughty rake that you are! Is not my
Fleur-de-Lys beautiful to adoration, and you head over ears in love with her?”
“Assuredly,” he replied, thinking of something else.
“Speak to her, then,” said Madame Aloïse, pushing him by the shoulder. “Go and say something to her;
you have grown strangely timid.”
We can assure our readers that timidity was no virtue or fault of the captain. He made an effort,
however, to do as he was bid.
“Fair cousin,” said he, approaching Fleur-de-Lys, “what is the subject of this piece of tapestry you are