an air of more sense than the Count d’Artois, the genius of the family.  They already tell as many bon-mots of the latter as of Henri Quatre and Louis Quatorze.  He is very fat, and the most like his grandfather of all the children.  You may imagine this royal mess did not occupy us long:  thence to the Chapel, where a first row in the balconies was kept for us.  Madame du Barri arrived over against us below, without rouge, without powder, and indeed sans avoir fait sa toilette; an odd appearance, as she was so conspicuous, close to the altar, and amidst both Court and people.  She is pretty, when you consider her; yet so little striking, that I never should have asked who she was.  There is nothing bold, assuming or affected in her manner.  Her husband’s sister was along with her.  In the Tribune above, surrounded by prelates, was the amorous and still handsome King.  One could not help smiling at the mixture of piety, pomp, and carnality.  From chapel we went to the dinner of the elder Mesdames.  We were almost stifled in the antechamber, where their dishes were heating over charcoal, and where we could not stir for the press.  When the doors are opened, everybody rushes in, princes of the blood, cordons bleus, abbes, housemaids, and the Lord knows who and what.  Yet, so used are their highnesses to this trade, that they eat as comfortably and heartily as you or I could do in our own parlours.

Our second act was much more agreeable.  We quitted the Court and a reigning mistress, for a dead one and a Cloister.  In short, I had obtained leave from the Bishop of Chartres to enter into St. Cyr; and, as Madame du Deffand never leaves anything undone that can give me satisfaction, she had written to the abbess to desire I might see everything that could be seen there.  The Bishop’s order was to admit me, Monsieur de Grave, et les dames de ma compagnie:  I begged the abbess to give me back the order, that I might deposit it in the archives of Strawberry, and she complied instantly.  Every door flew open to us:  and the nuns vied in attentions to please us.  The first thing I desired to see was Madame de Maintenon’s apartment.  It consists of two small rooms, a library, and a very small chamber, the same in which the Czar saw her, and in which she died.  The bed is taken away, and the room covered now with bad pictures of the royal family, which destroys the gravity and simplicity.  It is wainscotted with oak, with plain chairs of the same, covered with dark blue damask.  Everywhere else the chairs are of blue cloth.  The simplicity and extreme neatness of the whole house, which is vast, are very remarkable.  A large apartment above (for that I have mentioned is on the ground-floor), consisting of five rooms, and destined by Louis Quatorze for Madame de Maintenon, is now the infirmary, with neat white linen beds, and decorated with every text of Scripture by which could be insinuated that the foundress was a Queen.  The hour of vespers being