building where I was greatly put out by
the continual noise. Under my room was a gallery, sadly neglected, in
which busts, vases, columns, the rarest marbles, and a quantity of
other valuable articles were displayed without system or order. These
remains of luxury contrasted with the simplicity adopted by the
mistress of the house, with her dress and her mode of life. Summer and
winter Mme. Du Barry wore only a dressing-robe of cotton cambric or
white muslin, and every day, whatever the weather might be, she walked
in her park, or outside of it, without ever incurring disastrous
consequences, so sturdy had her health become through her life in the
country. She had maintained no relations with the numerous court that
surrounded her so long. In the evening we were usually alone at the
fireside, Mme. Du Barry and I. She sometimes talked to me about Louis
XV. and his court. She showed herself a worthy person by her actions
as well as her words, and did a great deal of good at Louveciennes,
where she helped all the poor. Every day after dinner we took coffee
in the pavilion which was so famous for its rich and tasteful
decorations. The first time Mme. Du Barry showed it to me she said:
"It is here that Louis XV. did me the honour of coming to dinner.
There was a gallery above for musicians and singers who performed
during the meal."

[Illustration: THE DAUPHIN OF FRANCE.]

When Mme. Du Barry went to England, before the Terror, to get back her
stolen diamonds, which, in fact, she recovered there, the English
received her very well. They did all they could to prevent her from
returning to France. But it was not long before she succumbed to the
fate in store for everybody who had some possessions. She was informed
against and betrayed by a little Negro called Zamore, who is mentioned
in all the memoirs of the period as having been overwhelmed with
kindness by her and Louis XV. Being arrested and thrown into prison,
Mme. Du Barry was tried and condemned to death by the Revolutionary
tribunal at the end of 1793. She was the only woman, among all who
perished in those dreadful days, unable to face the scaffold with
firmness; she screamed, she sued for pardon to the hideous mob
surrounding her, and that mob became moved to such a degree that the
executioner hastened to finish his task. This has always confirmed my
belief that if the victims of that period of execrable memory had not
had the noble pride of dying with fortitude th