In his very pale cravat was a breastpin with a magnificent cat's eye.

Patent leather boots and kid gloves completed the faultless attire of this gentleman, whom one would sooner have taken for a minister than a hairdresser.

A liveried servant followed him, carrying a silver-bound morocco box, which he took from him at the door of the boudoir, and placed with his own hands on the rosewood table.
After an extremely ceremonious greeting, he drew off his gloves, seated himself in an armchair by the fire, and made the countess describe what she was going to wear.

He listened with almost tragic attention, his forehead in his hand, his eyes closed.

After some reflection, he exclaimed: "Where is the diadem ?" Pilar placed it on the table in front of him.
He contemplated it earnestly, and then murmured: "Good, very good.