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ON the stroke of the clock the door at the further end of the room was opened and M. de Nancay entered unattended. As he advanced, his tall figure loomed conspicuously in the narrow room. Time had dealt kindly with him; he was now past middle age, but rather more handsome than in his earlier manhood. As usual, he was dressed in the extreme of fashion. He wore a suit of violet-colored velvet, his collar was of Mechlin lace, as were the ruffles at his sleeves and his knees, and he wore jewelled buckles on his low velvet shoes. A scarf of pale blue silk, the color of Nancay, crossed his breast; he carried his hat, covered with long plumes, in his hand, and wore no weapon but his sword. He approached the cardinal with a truculent bearing, and scarcely saluted as he paused before him.
"You are punctual, M. de Nancay," Richelieu remarked, affecting not to notice his manner. "Be seated, sir," he added, indicating the chair in front of the clock; "there are matters which we shall need to discuss at leisure."