Louis XV. had always been aware of the chevalier’s sex, but Cardinal Fleuri had taught him that it became kings to be impenetrable, and Louis remained so all his life.

When I got home I gave the eldest Hanoverian twenty guineas, telling her to fetch her marquis out of prison, and bring him to dine with us, as I wanted to know him.  I thought she would have died with joy.

The third sister, having taken counsel with Victoire, and doubtless with her mother also, determined to earn twenty guineas for herself, and she had not much trouble in doing so.  She it was on whom Lord Pembroke had cast the eye of desire.

These five girls were like five dishes placed before a gourmand, who enjoys them one after the other.  To my fancy the last was always the best.  The third sister’s name was Augusta.

Next Sunday I had a large number of guests.  There were my daughter and her friend, Madame Cornelis, and her son.  Sophie was kissed and caressed by the Hanoverians, while I bestowed a hundred kisses on Miss Nancy Steyne, who was only thirteen, but whose young beauty worked sad havoc with my senses.  My affection was supposed to be fatherly in its character, but, alas I it was of a much more fleshly kind.  This Miss Nancy, who seemed to me almost divine, was the daughter of a rich merchant.  I said that I wanted to make her father’s acquaintance, and she replied that her father proposed coming to call on me that very day.  I was delighted to hear of the coincidence, and gave order that he should be shewn in as soon as he came.

The poor marquis was the only sad figure in the company.  He was young and well-made, but thin and repulsively ugly.  He thanked me for my kindness, saying that I had done a wise thing, as he felt sure the time would come when he would repay me a hundredfold.

I had given my daughter six guineas to buy a pelisse, and she took me to my bedroom to shew it me.  Her mother followed her to congratulate me on my seraglio.

At dinner gaiety reigned supreme.  I sat between my daughter and Miss Nancy Steyne, and felt happy.  Mr. Steyne came in as we were at the oysters.  He kissed his daughter with that tender affection which is more characteristic, I think, of English parents than those of any other nation.

Mr. Steyne had dined, but he nevertheless ate a hundred scolloped oysters, in the preparation of which my cook was wonderfully expert; he also honoured the champagne with equal attention.

We spent three hours at the table and then proceeded to the third floor, where Sophie accompanied her mother’s singing on the piano, and young Cornelis displayed his flute-playing talents.  Mr. Steyne swore that he had never been present at such a pleasant party in his life, adding that pleasure was forbidden fruit in England on Sundays and holidays.  This convinced me that Steyne was an intelligent man, though his French was execrable.  He left at seven, after giving a beautiful ring to my daughter, whom he escorted back to school with Miss Nancy.