The elder sister thought I was duped, for in two months I had paid three hundred francs without having done anything, and she attributed my reserve to avarice.  Avarice, indeed!  I took a fancy to possess a painting of that beautiful body, and a German artist painted it for me splendidly for six louis.  The position in which he painted it was delightful.  She was lying on her stomach, her arms and her bosom leaning on a pillow, and holding her head sideways as if she were partly on the back.  The clever and tasteful artist had painted her nether parts with so much skill and truth that no one could have wished for anything more beautiful; I was delighted with that portrait; it was a speaking likeness, and I wrote under it, “O-Morphi,” not a Homeric word, but a Greek one after all, and meaning beautiful.

But who can anticipate the wonderful and secret decrees of destiny!  My friend Patu wished to have a copy of that portrait; one cannot refuse such a slight service to a friend, and I gave an order for it to the same painter.  But the artist, having been summoned to Versailles, shewed that delightful painting with several others, and M. de St. Quentin found it so beautiful that he lost no time in shewing it the king.  His Most Christian Majesty, a great connoisseur in that line, wished to ascertain with his own eyes if the artist had made a faithful copy; and in case the original should prove as beautiful as the copy, the son of St. Louis knew very well what to do with it.

M. de St. Quentin, the king’s trusty friend, had the charge of that important affair; it was his province:  He enquired from the painter whether the original could be brought to Versailles, and the artist, not supposing there would be any difficulty, promised to attend to it.

He therefore called on me to communicate the proposal; I thought it was delightful, and I immediately told the sister, who jumped for joy.  She set to work cleaning, washing and clothing the young beauty, and two or three days after they went to Versailles with the painter to see what could be done.  M. de St. Quentin’s valet, having received his instructions from his master, took the two females to a pavilion in the park, and the painter went to the hotel to await the result of his negotiation.  Half an hour afterwards the king entered the pavilion alone, asked the young O-Morphi if she was a Greek woman, took the portrait out of his pocket, and after a careful examination exclaimed,

“I have never seen a better likeness.”

His majesty then sat down, took the young girl on his knees, bestowed a few caresses on her, and having ascertained with his royal hand that the fruit had not yet been plucked, he gave her a kiss.

O-Morphi was looking attentively at her master, and smiled.

“What are you laughing at?” said the king.

“I laugh because you and a crown of six francs are as like as two peas.”

That naivete made the king laugh heartily, and he asked her whether she would like to remain in Versailles.