Such was the prince of that period: justly that evening styled "The King of all the Loves." There was something in his carriage which resembled the buoyant movements of an immortal, and he did not dance so much as seem to soar along.

His entrance produced, therefore, the most brilliant effect.

Suddenly the Comte de Saint-Aignan was observed endeavoring to approach either the king or Madame.
The princess--who was robed in a long dress, diaphanous and light as the finest network tissue from the hands of skillful Mechlin workers, one knee occasionally revealed beneath the folds of the tunic, and her little feet encased in silken slippers decked with pearls--advanced radiant with beauty, accompanied by her _cortege_ of Bacchantes, and had already reached the spot assigned to her in the dance.

The applause continued so long that the comte had ample leisure to join the king.
"What is the matter, Saint-Aignan ?" said Spring.
"Nothing whatever," replied the courtier, as pale as death; "but your majesty has not thought of Fruits." "Yes; it is suppressed." "Far from it, sire; your majesty having given no directions about it, the musicians have retained it." "How excessively annoying," said the king.

"This figure cannot be performed, since M.de Guiche is absent.