occasionally she does not look ugly. She has something like charms,
for her eyes, her colour and her skin are good. She has white teeth,
a large, ill-looking nose, and one prominent tooth, which when she laughs
has a bad effect. Her figure is drawn up, her head is sunk between her
shoulders, and what, in my opinion, is the worst part of her appearance,
is the ill grace with which she does everything. She walks like an old
woman of eighty. If she were a person not very anxious to please, I
should not be surprised at the negligence of her gait; but she likes to
be thought pretty. She is fond of dress, and yet she does not understand
that a good mien and graceful manners are the most becoming dress, and
that where these are wanting all the ornaments in the world are good for
nothing. She has a good deal of the Mortemart family in her, and is as
much like the Duchess of Sforza, the sister of Montespan, as if she were
her daughter; the falsehood of the Mortemarts displays itself in her
eyes. Madame d'Orleans would be the most indolent woman in the world but
for Madame de Valois, her daughter, who is worse than she. To me nothing
is more disgusting than a young person so indolent. She cares little for
me, or rather cannot bear me, and, for my part, I care as little for a
person so educated.

She is not upon good terms with her mother, because she wanted to marry
her to the Prince de Dombes, the Duc du Maine's eldest son. The mother
says now reproachfully to her daughter that, if she had married her
nephew, neither his father's nor his own misfortunes would have taken
place. She cannot bear to have her daughter in her sight, and has begged
me to keep her with me.

My son has agreed to give his daughter to the Prince of Modem, at which I
very sincerely rejoice. On the day before yesterday (28th November,
1719) she came hither with her mother to tell me that the courier had
arrived. Her eyes were swollen and red, and she looked very miserable.
The Duchess of Hanover tells me that the intended husband fell in love
with Mademoiselle de Valois at the mere sight of her portrait. I think
her rather pretty than agreeable. Her hawk nose spoils all, in my
opinion. Her legs are long, her body stout and short, and her gait
shows that she has not learnt to dance; in fact, she never would learn.
Still, if the interior was as good as the exterior, all might pass; but
she has as much of the father as of the mother in her, an