chairs of the same,
covered with dark blue damask. Everywhere else the chairs are of blue
cloth. The simplicity and extreme neatness of the whole house, which is
vast, are very remarkable. A large apartment above (for that I have
mentioned is on the ground-floor), consisting of five rooms, and
destined by Louis Quatorze for Madame de Maintenon, is now the
infirmary, with neat white linen beds, and decorated with every text of
Scripture by which could be insinuated that the foundress was a Queen.
The hour of vespers being come, we were conducted to the chapel, and, as
it was _my_ curiosity that had led us thither, I was placed in the
Maintenon's own tribune; my company in the adjoining gallery. The
pensioners, two and two, each band headed by a man, march orderly to
their seats, and sing the whole service, which I confess was not a
little tedious. The young ladies, to the number of two hundred and
fifty, are dressed in black, with short aprons of the same, the latter
and their stays bound with blue, yellow, green, or red, to distinguish
the classes; the captains and lieutenants have knots of a different
colour for distinction. Their hair is curled and powdered, their
coiffure a sort of French round-eared caps, with white tippets, a sort
of ruff and large tucker: in short, a very pretty dress. The nuns are
entirely in black, with crape veils and long trains, deep white
handkerchiefs, and forehead cloths, and a very long train. The chapel is
plain but very pretty, and in the middle of the choir under a flat
marble lies the foundress. Madame de Cambis, one of the nuns, who are
about forty, is beautiful as a Madonna.[1] The abbess has no distinction
but a larger and richer gold cross: her apartment consists of two very
small rooms. Of Madame de Maintenon we did not see fewer than twenty
pictures. The young one looking over her shoulder has a round face,
without the least resemblance to those of her latter age. That in the
royal mantle, of which you know I have a copy, is the most repeated; but
there is another with a longer and leaner face, which has by far the
most sensible look. She is in black, with a high point head and band, a
long train, and is sitting in a chair of purple velvet. Before her
knees stands her niece Madame de Noailles, a child; at a distance a view
of Versailles or St. Cyr,[2] I could not distinguish which. We were
shown some rich reliquaires and the _corpo santo_ that was sent to her
by the Pope. We were