“Yes, Monseigneur,” replied a voice, “there are four.”—­“That will be sufficient,” replied the Prince.  Then addressing the Ambassador, he expressed his warmest thanks for the friendly attention he had shown him, and assured him that he desired nothing so much as an opportunity to testify his gratitude.  “I am now going to set out,” he added, “for Vienna; the Emperor is my cousin; I have no doubt he will receive me, and I shall learn in his army to become a soldier in the campaign against the Turks.”  He then thanked the Governor for the pains he had bestowed upon his education; and promised that, if any good fortune should befall him, his Governor should share it with him.  He also said something complimentary to his gentleman.  He then alighted, called for the post-chaises, and took his seat in one of them; his favourite, a young man of little experience, but, as it is said, of considerable talent, placed himself in another, and his two valets de chambre into the third and fourth.  That nothing may be wanting to the romantic turn of his adventures, it is said, besides, that Madame de Riveira was the object of his affection in Portugal before she was married; that he even wished to make her his wife, but that his brother would not permit it.  A short time before his departure, the husband, who is a very jealous man, found him at his wife’s feet; and this hastened the Prince’s departure.

Henri IV. had been one day told of the infidelity of one of his mistresses.  Believing that the King had no intention of visiting her, she made an assignation with the Duc de Bellegarde in her own apartment.  The King, having caused the time of his rival’s coming to be watched, when he was informed of his being there, went to his mistress’s room.  He found her in bed, and she complained of a violent headache.  The King said he was very hungry, and wanted some supper; she replied that she had not thought about supper, and believed she had only a couple of partridges.  Henri IV. desired they should be served up, and said he would eat them with her.  The supper which she had prepared for Bellegarde, and which consisted of much more than two partridges, was then served up; the King, taking up a small loaf, split it open, and, sticking a whole partridge into it, threw it under the bed.  “Sire,” cried the lady, terrified to death, “what are you doing?”—­“Madame,” replied the merry monarch, “everybody must live.”  He then took his departure, content with having frightened the lovers.

I have again seen M. La Mothe le Vayer; who, with all his sense, dresses himself like a madman.  He wears furred boots, and a cap which he never takes off, lined with the same material, a large band, and a black velvet coat.

We have had few Queens in France who have been really happy.  Marie de Medicis died in exile.  The mother of the King and of the late Monsieur was unhappy as long as her husband was alive.  Our Queen Marie-Therese said upon her death-bed, “that from the time of her becoming Queen she had not had a day of real happiness.”