E.

The Grand Duchess has declared to me, that, from the day on which she set
out for Florence, she thought of nothing but her return, and the means of
executing this design as soon as she should be able.

No one could approve of her deserting her husband, and the more
particularly as she speaks very well of him, and describes the manner of
living at Florence as like a terrestrial paradise.

She does not think herself unfortunate for having travelled, and looks
upon all the grandeur she enjoyed at Florence as not to be compared with
the unrestrained way of living in which she indulges here. She is very
amusing when she relates her own history, in the course of which she by
no means flatters herself.

"Indeed, cousin," I say to her often, "you do not flatter yourself, but
you really tell things which make against you."

"Ah, no matter," she replies, "I care not, provided I never see the Grand
Duke again."

She cannot be accused of any amorous intrigue.

Her husband furnishes her with very little money; and at this moment
(April, 1718) he owes her fifteen months of her pension. She is now
really in want of money to enable her to take the waters of Bourbon.
The Grand Duke, who is very avaricious, thinks she will die soon, and
therefore holds back the payments that he may take advantage of that
event when it shall happen.

SECTION XXXVII.--THE DUCHESSE DE LORRAINE, ELIZABETH-CHARLOTTE
PHILIPPINE D'ORLEANS, CONSORT OF LEOPOLD JOSEPH-CHARLES DE LORRAINE.

My daughter is ugly; even more so than she was, for the fine complexion
which she once had has become sun-burnt. This makes a great difference
in the appearance, and causes a person to look old. She has an ugly
round nose, and her eyes are sunken; but her shape is preserved, and, as
she dances well, and her manners are easy and polished, any one may see
that she is a person of breeding. I know many people who pique
themselves upon their good manners, and who still have not so much reason
as she has. At all events I am content with my child as she is; and I
would rather see her ugly and virtuous than pretty and profligate like
the rest.

Whenever the time of her accouchement approaches, she never fails to bid
her friends adieu, in the notion that she will die. Fortunately she has
hitherto always escaped well.

When jealousy is once suffered to take root, it is impossible to
extirpate it--therefore it is better not to let it gain ground. My
daughter