much in his situation:
he is, moreover, an extremely honourable man, but people will
not see in him anything but the brother of the favourite; and,
because he is fat, he is thought dull and heavy." This was all
perfectly true. M. de Marigny had travelled in Italy with very
able artists, and had acquired taste, and much more information
than any of his predecessors had possessed. As for the heaviness
of his air, it only came upon him when he grew fat; before that,
he had a delightful face. He was then as handsome as his sister.
He paid court to nobody, had no vanity, and confined himself to
the society of persons with whom he was at his ease. He went
rather more into company at Court after the King had taken him
to ride with him in his carriage, thinking it then his duty to
shew himself among the courtiers.

Madame called me, one day, into her closet, where the King was
walking up and down in a very serious mood. "You must," said she,
"pass some days in a house in the Avenue de St. Cloud, whither
I shall send you. You will there find a young lady about to lie
in." The King said nothing, and I was mute from astonishment.
"You will be mistress of the house, and preside, like one of
the fabulous goddesses, at the accouchement. Your presence is
necessary, in order that everything may pass secretly, and according
to the King's wish. You will be present at the baptism, and name
the father and mother." The King began to laugh, and said, "The
father is a very honest man;" Madame added, "beloved by every
one, and adored by those who know him." Madame then took from
a little cupboard a small box, and drew from it an aigrette of
diamonds, at the same time saying to the King, "I have my reasons
for it not being handsomer." "It is but too much so," said the
King; "how kind you are;" and he then embraced Madame, who wept
with emotion, and, putting her hand upon the King's heart, said,
"This is what I wish to secure." The King's eyes then filled
with tears, and I also began weeping, without knowing why.
Afterwards, the King said, "Guimard will call upon you every
day, to assist you with his advice, and at the critical moment
you will send for him. You will say that you expect the sponsors,
and a moment after you will pretend to have received a letter,
stating that they cannot come. You will, of course, affect to
be very much embarrassed; and Guimard will then say that there
is nothing for it but to take the first comers. You will th