e have described, she could not fail of commanding love; but so far
was she from courting it, that she was scrupulously nice with respect to
those whose merit might entitle them to form any pretensions to her.

The more the Chevalier de Grammont was convinced of these truths,
the more did he endeavour to please and engage her in his turn: his
entertaining wit, his conversation, lively, easy, and always
distinguished by novelty, constantly gained him attention; but he was
much embarrassed to find that presents, which so easily made their way in
his former method of courtship, were no longer proper in the mode which,
for the future, he was obliged to pursue.

He had an old valet-de-chambre, called Termes, a bold thief, and a still
more impudent liar: he used to send this man from London every week, on
the commissions we have before mentioned; but after the disgrace of Mrs.
Middleton, and the adventure of Miss Warmestre, Mr. Termes was only
employed in bringing his master's clothes from Paris, and he did not
always acquit himself with the greatest fidelity in that employment, as
will appear hereafter.

The queen was a woman of sense, and used all her endeavours to please the
king, by that kind obliging behaviour which her affection made natural to
her: she was particularly attentive in promoting every sort of pleasure
and amusement especially such as she could be present at herself.

She had contrived, for this purpose, a splendid masquerade, where those,
whom she appointed to dance, had to represent different nations; she
allowed some time for preparation, during which we may suppose, the
tailors, the mantua makers, and embroiderers, were not idle: nor were the
beauties, who were to be there, less anxiously employed; however, Miss
Hamilton found time enough to invent two or three little tricks, in a
conjuncture so favourable, for turning into ridicule the vain fools of
the court. There were two who were very eminently such: the one was Lady
Muskerry, who had married her cousin-german; and the other a maid of
honour to the Duchess, called Blague.

The first, whose husband most assuredly never married her for beauty,
was made like the generality of rich heiresses, to whom just nature seems
sparing of her gifts, in proportion as they are loaded with those of
fortune: she had the shape of a woman big with child, without being so;
but had a very good reason for limping; for, of two legs uncommonly
short, one was much short