His face was longer and darker than the king's, and his nose more prominent, though he shared with his brother the large brown eyes which each had inherited from Anne of Austria.

He had none of the simple and yet stately taste which marked the dress of the monarch, but his clothes were all tagged over with fluttering ribbons, which rustled behind him as he walked, and clustered so thickly over his feet as to conceal them from view.

Crosses, stars, jewels, and insignia were scattered broadcast over his person, and the broad blue ribbon of the Order of the Holy Ghost was slashed across his coat, and was gathered at the end into a great bow, which formed the incongruous support of a diamond-hilted sword.

Such was the figure which rolled towards the king, bearing in his right hand his many-feathered beaver, and appearing in his person, as he was in his mind, an absurd burlesque of the monarch.
"Why, monsieur, you seem less gay than usual to-day," said the king, with a smile.

"Your dress, indeed, is bright, but your brow is clouded.
I trust that all is well with Madame and with the Duc de Chartres ?" "Yes, sire, they are well; but they are sad like myself, and from the same cause." "Indeed! and why ?" "Have I ever failed in my duty as your younger brother, sire ?" "Never, Philippe, never!" said the king, laying his hand affectionately upon the other's shoulder.