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The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Vicomte De Bragelonne 16 at Prostate Health
poses of sirens so Anacreontically -- that the principalechevin, when admitted to view this capital piece in thesalle of Cropole, at once declared that these ladies weretoo handsome, of too animated a beauty, to figure as a signin the eyes of passers-by.To Pittrino he added, "His royal highness, Monsieur, whooften comes into our city, will not be much pleased to seehis illustrious mother so slightly clothed, and he will sendyou to the oubliettes of the state; for, remember, the heartof that glorious prince is not always tender. You mustefface either the two sirens or the legend, without which Iforbid the exhibition of the sign. I say this for your sake,Master Cropole, as well as for yours, Signor Pittrino."What answer could be made to this? It was necessary to thankthe echevin for his kindness, which Cropole did. ButPittrino remained downcast and said he felt assured of whatwas about to happen.The visitor was scarcely gone when Cropole, crossing hisarms, said: "Well, master, what is to be done?""We must efface the legend," said Pittrino, in a melancholytone. "I have some excellent ivory-black; it will be done ina moment, and we will replace the Medici by the nymphs orthe sirens, whichever you prefer.""No," said Cropole, "the will of my father must be carriedout. My father considered ---- ""He considered the figures of the most importance," saidPittrino."He thought most of the legend," said Cropole."The proof of the importance in which he held the figures,"said Pittrino, "is that he desired they should belikenesses, and they are so.""Yes; but if they had not been so, who would have recognizedthem without the legend? At the present day even, when thememory of the Blaisois begins to be faint with regard tothese two celebrated persons, who would recognize Catherineand Mary without the words `To the Medici?""But the figures?" said Pittrino, in despair; for he feltthat young Cropole was right. "I should not like to lose thefruit of my labor.""And I should not wish you to be thrown into prison andmyself into the oubliettes.""Let us efface `Medici, " said Pittrino, supplicatingly."No," replied Cropole, firmly. "I have got an idea, asublime idea -- your picture shall appear, and my legendlikewise. Does not `Medici mean doctor, or physician, inItalian?""Yes, in the plural.""Well, then, you shall order another sign-frame of thesmith; you shall paint six physicians, and write underneath`Aux Medici which makes a very pretty play upon words.""Six physicians! impossible! And the composition?" criedPittrino."That is your business -- but so it shall be -- I insistupon it -- it must be so -- my macaroni is burning."This reasoning was peremptory -- Pittrino obeyed. Hecomposed the sign of six physicians, with the legend; theechevin applauded and authorized it.The sign produced an extravagant success in the city, whichproves that poetry has always been in the wrong, beforecitizens, as Pittrino said.Cropole, to make amends to his painter-in-ordinary, hung upthe nymphs of the preceding sign in his bedroom, which madeMadame Cropole blush every time she looked at it, when shewas undressing at night.This is the way in which the pointed-gable house got a sign;and this is how the hostelry of the Medici, making afortune, was found to be enlarged by a quarter, as we havedescribed. And this is how there was at Blois a hostelry ofthat name, and had for painter-in-ordinary Master Pittrino.CHAPTER 6The Unknown.Thus founded and recommended by its sign, the hostelry ofMaster Cropole held its way steadily on towards a solidprosperity.It was not an immense fortune that Cropole had inperspective; but he might hope to double the thousand louisdor left by his father, to make another thousand louis bythe sale of his house and stock, and at length to livehappily like a retired citizen.Cropole was anxious for gain, and was half-crazy with joy atthe news of the arrival of Louis XIV.Himself, his wife, Pittrino, and two cooks, immediately laidhands upon all the inhabitants of the dove-cote, thepoultry-yard, and the rabbit-hutches; so that as manylamentations and cries resounded in the yards of thehostelry of the Medici as were formerly heard in Rama.Cropole had, at the time, but one single traveler in hishouse.This was a man of scarcely thirty years of age, handsome,tall, austere, or rather melancholy, in all his gestures andlooks.He was dressed in black velvet with
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