ar from comparable with
the joy I experienced in looking forward to motherhood. I will not
attempt to describe the transports I felt when I heard the first cry
of my child. Every mother knows what those feelings are.

Not long before that event I painted the Duchess de Mazarin, who was
no longer young, but whose beauty had not yet faded. This Duchess de
Mazarin was said to have been endowed on her birth by three fairies,
Wealth, Duty and Ill-luck. Certain it is that the poor woman could
undertake nothing, not even so much as entertaining a party of
friends, without some mishap befalling. A number of tales of all sorts
of untoward happenings were current. Here is one of the least known:
One evening, having sixty people to supper, she conceived the plan of
putting on the table an enormous pie, in which were imprisoned a
hundred tiny living birds. At a sign from the Duchess the pie was
opened, and the whole fluttering flock beat their wings against the
faces of the guests and took refuge in the hair of the women, making
nests of their elaborately built-up head-dresses. It may be imagined
what consternation and excitement there was! It was impossible to get
rid of the unfortunate birds, and at last the company was obliged to
leave the table, while they blessed such a silly trick.

The Duchess de Mazarin was very stout; it took hours to lace her. One
day, while she was being laced, a visitor was announced. One of her
maids ran to the door and exclaimed: "You can't come in until we have
arranged her meat." I remember that this excessive corpulency evoked
the admiration of the Turkish Ambassadors. When asked at the opera to
point out the woman that pleased them most of all the occupants of the
boxes, they pointed without hesitation to the Duchess de
Mazarin--because she was the fattest.

While speaking of ambassadors, I must not forget to say how I once
painted two diplomats, who, though they were copper-coloured,
nevertheless had splendid heads. In 1788 some envoys were sent to
Paris by the Emperor Tippoo Sahib. I saw these Indians at the opera
and they appeared to me so remarkably picturesque that I thought I
should like to paint them. But as they communicated to their
interpreter that they would never allow themselves to be painted
unless the request came from the King, I managed to secure that favour
from His Majesty. I repaired to the hotel where the strangers were
lodging, for they wanted to be painted at home. On my