The room was long and low, its floor entirely
bare. Plain wooden forms such as that which he occupied were placed
here and there against the wall. These last were plastered with
fencing trophies, masks, crossed foils, stuffed plastrons, and a
variety of swords, daggers, and targets, belonging to a variety of
ages and countries. There was also a portrait of an obese, big-nosed
gentleman in an elaborately curled wig, wearing the blue ribbon of
the Saint Esprit, in whom Andre-Louis recognized the King. And there
was a framed parchment - M. des Amis' certificate from the King's
Academy. A bookcase occupied one corner, and near this, facing the
last of the four windows that abundantly lighted the long room, there
was a small writing-table and an armchair. A plump and beautifully
dressed young gentleman stood by this table in the act of resuming
coat and wig. M. des Amis sauntered over to him - moving, thought
Andre-Louis, with extraordinary grace and elasticity - and stood in
talk with him whilst also assisting him to complete his toilet.
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