gets a better,
broader view of his belongings."

M. le Dauphin shows a singular preference for Mademoiselle de Nantes, but
my daughter, brimful of wit and fun, often makes merry at the expense of
her exalted admirer.

Mademoiselle de Blois, the eldest daughter of Madame de la Valliere, is
the handsomest, most charming person it is possible to imagine. Her
slim, graceful figure reminds one of the beautiful goddesses, with whom
poets entertain us; she abounds in accomplishments and every sort of
charm. Her tender solicitude for her mother, and their constant close
companionship, have doubtless served to quicken her intelligence and
penetration.

Like the King, she is somewhat grave; she has the same large brown eyes,
and just his Austrian lip, his shapely hand and well-turned leg, almost
his selfsame voice. Madame de la Valliere, who, in the intervals of
pregnancy, had no bosom to speak of, has shown marked development in this
respect since living at the convent. The Princess, ever since she
attained the age of puberty, has always seemed adequately furnished with
physical charms. The King provided her with a husband in the person of
the Prince de Conti, a nephew of the Prince de Conde. They are devotedly
attached to each other, being both as handsome as can be. The Princesse
de Conti enjoys the entire affection of the Queen, who becomes quite
uneasy if she does not see her for five or six days.

Certain foreign princes proposed for her hand, when the King replied that
the presence of his daughter was as needful to him as daylight or the air
he breathed.

I have here surely drawn a most attractive portrait of this princess, and
I ought certainly to be believed, for Madame de Conti is not fond of me
at all. Possibly she looks upon me as the author of her mother's
disgrace; I shall never be at pains to undeceive her. Until the moment
of her departure, Madame de la Valliere used always to visit me. The
evening before her going she took supper with me, and I certainly had no
cause to read in her looks either annoyance or reproach. Mademoiselle de
Montpensier, who happened to call, saw us at table, and stayed to have
some dessert with us. She has often told me afterwards how calm and
serene the Duchess looked. One would never have thought she was about to
quit a brilliant Court for the hair shirt of the ascetic, and all the
death-in-life of a convent. I grieved for her, I wept for her, and I got
her a grand gentleman as a