ime, he conducted himself somewhat better. I was
one of the last persons to whom he spoke, and I was even shocked when it
was announced that the man with whom I had been conversing a quarter of
an hour before, and who did not look ill, was no more.

They have not yet learnt, although I have resided so long in France, to
respect my seal. M. de Louvois used to have all my letters opened and
read; and M. Corey, following his noble example, has not been more
courteous to me. Formerly they used to open them for the purpose of
finding something to my prejudice, and now (1718) they open them through
mere habit.

SECTION XLI.--LOUIS XV.

It is impossible for any child to be more agreeable than our young King;
he has large, dark eyes and long, crisp eyelashes; a good complexion, a
charming little mouth, long and thick dark-brown hair, little red cheeks,
a stout and well-formed body, and very pretty hands and feet; his gait is
noble and lofty, and he puts on his hat exactly like the late King. The
shape of his face is neither too long nor too short; but the worst thing,
and which he inherits from his mother, is, that he changes colour very
frequently. Sometimes he looks ill, but in half an hour his colour will
have returned. His manners are easy, and it may be said, without
flattery, that he dances very well. He is quick and clever in all that
he attempts; he has already (1720) begun to shoot at pheasants and
partridges, and has a great passion for shooting.

He is as like his mother as one drop of water is to another; he has sense
enough, and all that he seems to want is a little more affability. He is
terribly haughty, and already knows what respect is. His look is what
may be called agreeable, but his air is milder than his character, for
his little head is rather an obstinate and wilful one.

The young King was full of grief when Madame de Ventadour quitted him.
She said to him, "Sire, I shall come back this evening; mind that you
behave very well during my absence."

"My dear mamma," replied he, "if you leave me I cannot behave well."

He does not care at all for any of the other women.

The Marechal de Villeroi teases the young King sometimes about not
speaking to me enough, and sometimes about not walking with me. This
afflicts the poor child and makes him cry. His figure is neat, but he
will speak only to persons he is accustomed to.

On the 12th August (1717), the young King fell out of his bed