Mademoiselle bit her lip and added: 

“The President asked sixty thousand first; my men of business offered him forty, and he accepted it.”

Mademoiselle has no generosity, although she is immensely rich; she pretended not to hear, and it was M. Colbert who sent by order the twenty thousand livres to the President.

Mademoiselle, vain and petty, as though she were a bourgeoise of yesterday, showed us her gallery, where she had already collected the selected portraits of all her ancestors, relations, and kindred; she pointed out to us in her winter salon the portrait of the little Comte de Toulouse, painted, not as an admiral, but as God of the Sea, floating on a pearl shell; and his brother, the Duc du Maine, as Colonel-General of the Swiss and Grisons.  The full-length portrait of the King was visible on three chimneypieces; she was at great pains to make a merit of it, and call for thanks.

Having followed her into her state chamber, where she had stolen in privately, I saw that she was taking away the portrait of Lauzun.  I went and told it to the King, who shrugged his shoulders and fell to laughing.

“She is fifty-two years old,” he said to me.

A very pretty collation of confitures and fruits was served us, to which the King prayed her to add a ragout of peas and a roasted fowl.

During the repast, he said to her:  “For the rest, I have not noticed the portrait of Gaston, your father; is it a distraction on my part, or an omission on yours?”

“It will be put there later,” she answered.  “It is not time.”

“What! your father!” added the King.  “You do not think that, cousin!”

“All my actions,” added the Princess, “are weighed in the balance beforehand; if I were to exhibit the portrait of my father at the head of these various pictures, I should have to put my stepmother, his wife, there too, as a necessary pendant.  The harm which she has done me does not permit of that complacence.  One opens one’s house only to one’s friends.”

“Your stepmother has never done you any other harm,” replied the King, “than to reclaim for her children the funds or the furniture left by your father.  The character of Margaret of Lorraine has always been sweetness itself; seeing your irritation, she begged me to arbitrate myself; and you know all that M. Colbert and the Chancellor did to satisfy you under the circumstances.  But let us speak of something else, and cease these discussions.  I have a service to ask of you:  here is M. le Duc du Maine already big; everybody knows of your affection for him, and I have seen his portrait with pleasure, in one of your salons.  I am going to establish him; would it be agreeable to you if I give him your livery?”

“M. le Duc du Maine,” said the Princess, “is the type of what is gracious, and noble, and beautiful; he can only do honour to my livery; I grant it him with all my heart, since you do me the favour of desiring it.  Would I were in a position to do more for him!”