In a word, no one ever saw anything finer, more dazzling, attractive, superb.  The glory of Niquee [in the enchanted palace of “Amadis”] never approached it; for one could see all this glowing in the ballrooms at the Palace or the Louvre, like the stars of heaven in the clear sky.  The Queen desired and commanded that they should always appear in lovely and expensive apparel, although she herself, during her widowhood, never dressed in worldly silks, unless of subdued tints, but always in good taste and well-fitting, so that she looked the Queen above all others.  It is true that on the wedding days of her sons Charles and Henry she wore robes of black velvet, wishing, she said, to solemnise these occasions in this way beyond all others.  But while her husband the King was alive, she dressed very richly and superbly, and looked the great lady that she was.  It was a privilege to see and admire her, in the general processions which were held both at Paris and elsewhere, such as that of the Fete Dieu, and that of Palm Sunday, carrying palms and torches with such grace, and that of Candlemas Day, when all carried lighted candles whose flame vied with their own splendour.  In these three processions, which are the most noteworthy, assuredly one could see nothing but beauty, grace, noble bearing, stately I marching and fine array—­at sight of which all the bystanders were spellbound.

It was also a fine sight in the earlier days to see the Queen going about in her litter, or on horseback, when she was attended by forty or fifty ladies all well mounted on handsome steeds finely caparisoned and sitting their mounts with such ease that the men could not exceed them, either in horsemanship or accoutrement.  Their hats were richly decorated with plumes which floated back in the air seeming to offer a challenge of love or war.  Virgil, who attempted to write of the beautiful apparel of Queen Dido when she went hunting, does not rival in description the luxury of our Queen and her ladies, whom I do not wish to displease, as I have already said.

This Queen, established by the hand of the great King Francis, who introduced this beautiful pageantry, did not wish to forget or neglect anything that she ever learned, but always wished to imitate it, to see if she could surpass it.  I have heard her talk on this subject three or four times.  Those who have seen all the things that I have will feel the same delight of the soul that I do, for what I say is true and I have seen it myself.

This, then, was the Court of our Queen.  How unfortunate was the day she died!  I have heard it related that our present King [Henry IV], some eighteen months after he saw his prospects brightening to become King, one day began to talk over with the late Marshal de Biron the designs and projects which he would set on foot to make his Court well established, elegant, and closely similar to that which our Queen maintained; for it was then in the heyday of its lustre and splendour.  The Marshal replied:  “It is not in your power, nor in that of any King who is to succeed, unless you make a compact with God that He resuscitate the Queen Mother and bring her back to your aid.”  But that was not what the King desired, for there was no one, at the time she died, whom he hated so much, and without reason that I could see.  But he ought to know better than I.