flowers, but could have no others than those in their windows.

The Marquise de Durfort, since Duchesse de Civrac, afforded to Madame
Victoire agreeable society. The Princess spent almost all her evenings
with that lady, and ended by fancying herself domiciled with her.

Madame de Narbonne had, in a similar way, taken pains to make her intimate
acquaintance pleasant to Madame Adelaide.

Madame Louise had for many years lived in great seclusion; I read to her
five hours a day. My voice frequently betrayed the exhaustion of my
lungs; the Princess would then prepare sugared water for me, place it by
me, and apologise for making me read so long, on the score of having
prescribed a course of reading for herself.

One evening, while I was reading, she was informed that M. Bertin,
'ministre des parties casuelles', desired to speak with her; she went out
abruptly, returned, resumed her silks and embroidery, and made me resume
my book; when I retired she commanded me to be in her closet the next
morning at eleven o'clock. When I got there the Princess was gone out; I
learnt that she had gone at seven in the morning to the Convent of the
Carmelites of St. Denis, where she was desirous of taking the veil. I went
to Madame Victoire; there I heard that the King alone had been acquainted
with Madame Louise's project; that he had kept it faithfully secret, and
that, having long previously opposed her wish, he had only on the
preceding evening sent her his consent; that she had gone alone into the
convent, where she was expected; and that a few minutes afterwards she had
made her appearance at the grating, to show to the Princesse de Guistel,
who had accompanied her to the convent gate, and to her equerry, the
King's order to leave her in the monastery.

Upon receiving the intelligence of her sister's departure, Madame Adelaide
gave way to violent paroxysms of rage, and reproached the King bitterly
for the secret, which he had thought it his duty to preserve. Madame
Victoire missed the society of her favourite sister, but she shed tears in
silence only. The first time I saw this excellent Princess after Madame
Louise's departure, I threw myself at her feet, kissed her hand, and asked
her, with all the confidence of youth, whether she would quit us as Madame
Louise had done. She raised me, embraced me; and said, pointing to the
lounge upon which she was extended, "Make yourself easy, my dear; I shall
never have Louise's courage.