of Sevres?  Behind her arm-chair and on the side of the room opposite the table is another arm-chair, or an ottoman, on which lies a guitar.  But it is the person herself who is in every respect marvellous in her extreme delicacy, gracious dignity, and exquisite beauty.  Holding her music-book in her hand lightly and carelessly, her attention is suddenly called away from it; she seems to have heard a noise and turns her head.  Is it indeed the King who has arrived and is about to enter?  She seems to be expecting him with certainty and to be listening with a smile.  Her head, thus turned aside, reveals the outline of the neck in all its grace, and her very short but deliciously-waved hair is arranged in rows of little curls, the blonde tint of which may be divined beneath the slight covering of powder.  The head stands out against a light-blue background, which in general dominates the whole picture.  Everything satisfies and delights the eye; it is a melody, perhaps, rather than a harmony.  A bluish light, sifting downwards, falls across every object.  There is nothing in this enchanted boudoir which does not seem to pay court to the goddess,—­nothing, not even L’Esprit des Lois and L’Encyclopedie.  The flowered satin robe makes way along the undulations of the breast for several rows of those bows, which were called, I believe, parfaits contentements, and which are of a very pale lilac.  Her own flesh-tints and complexion are of a white lilac, delicately azured.  That breast, those ribbons, and that robe—­all blend together harmoniously, or rather lovingly.  Beauty shines in all its brilliance and in full bloom.  The face is still young; the temples have preserved their youth and freshness; the lips are also still fresh and have not yet withered as they are said to have become from having been too frequently puckered or bitten in repressing anger and insults.  Everything in the countenance and in the attitude expresses grace, supreme taste, and affability and amenity rather than sweetness, a queenly air which she had to assume but which sits naturally upon her and is sustained without too much effort.  I might continue and describe many lovely details, but I prefer to stop and send the curious to the model itself:  there they will find a thousand things that I scarcely dare to touch upon.

Such in her best days was this ravishing, ambitious, frail, but sincere woman, who in her elevation remained good, faithful (I love to believe) in her sin, obliging, so far as she could be, but vindictive when driven to it; who was quite one of her own sex after all, and, finally, whose intimate life her lady-in-waiting has been able to show us without being too heavy or crushing a witness against her.