Noailles in a sack, for they are all much more cunning than he is.

With respect to the pregnancy of the Queen of England, the consort of
James II., whom we saw at Saint-Germain, it is well known that her
daughter-in-law maintains that she was not with child; but it seems to
me that the Queen might easily have taken measures to prove the contrary.
I spoke about it to Her Majesty myself. She replied "that she had begged
the Princess Anne to satisfy herself by the evidence of her own senses,
and to feel the motion of the child;" but the latter refused, and the
Queen added "that she never could have supposed that the persons who had
been in the habit of seeing her daily during her pregnancy could doubt
the fact of her having been delivered."

[On the dethronement of James II., the party of William, Prince of
Orange, asserted that the Prince of Orange was a supposititious
child, and accused James of having spirited away the persona who
could have proved the birth of the Queen's child, and of having made
the midwife leave the kingdom precipitately, she being the only
person who had actually seen the child born.]

A song has been made upon Lord Bolingbroke on the subject of his passion
for a young girl who escaped from her convent. Some persons say that the
girl was a professed nun. She ran after the Duke Regent a long time, but
could not accomplish her intention.

Lady Gordon, the grandaunt of Lord Huntley, was my dame d'atour for a
considerable period. She was a singular person, and always plunged into
reveries. Once when she was in bed and going to seal a letter, she
dropped the wax upon her own thigh and burnt herself dreadfully. At
another time, when she was also in bed and engaged in play, she threw the
dice upon the ground and spat in the bed. Once, too, she spat in the
mouth of my first femme de chambre, who happened to be passing at the
moment. I think if I had not interposed they would have come to blows,
so angry was the femme de chambre. One evening when I wanted my
head-dress to go to Court, she took off her gloves and threw them in my
face, putting on my head-dress at the same time with great gravity.
When she was speaking to a man she had a habit of playing with the
buttons of his waistcoat. Saving one day some occasion to talk to the
Chevalier Buveon, a Captain in the late Monsieur's Guard, and he being a
very tall man, she could only reach his waistband, which she began to
unbutton. The p