to the truth of both the one and the other.  I can say then this, I know of what religion he was not; nothing more.  I am sure, however, that he was very ill at ease upon this point, and that if a dangerous illness had overtaken him, and he had had the time, he would have thrown himself into the hands of all the priests and all the Capuchins of the town.  His great foible was to pride himself upon his impiety and to wish to surpass in that everybody else.

I recollect that one Christmas-time, at Versailles, when he accompanied the King to morning prayers and to the three midnight masses, he surprised the Court by his continued application in reading a volume he had brought with him, and which appeared to be, a prayer book.  The chief femme de chambre of Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans, much attached to the family, and very free as all good old domestics are, transfixed with joy at M. le Duc d’Orleans’s application to his book, complimented him upon it the next day, in the presence of others.  M. le Duc d’Orleans allowed her to go on some time, and then said, “You are very silly, Madame Imbert.  Do you know what I was reading?  It was ‘Rabelais,’ that I brought with me for fear of being bored.”

The effect of this reply may be imagined.  The thing was too true, and was pure braggadocio; for, without comparison of the places, or of the things, the music of the chapel was much superior to that of the opera, and to all the music of Europe; and at Christmas it surpassed itself.  There was nothing so magnificent as the decoration of the chapel, or the manner in which it was lighted.  It was full of people; the arches of the tribune were crowded with the Court ladies, in undress, but ready for conquest.  There was nothing so surprising as the beauty of the spectacle.  The ears were charmed also.  M. le Duc d’Orleans loved music extremely; he could compose, and had amused himself by composing a kind of little opera, La Fare writing the words, which was performed before the King.  This music of the chapel, therefore, might well have occupied him in the most agreeable manner, to say nothing of the brilliant scene, without his having recourse to Rabelais.  But he must needs play the impious, and the wag.

Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans was another kind of person.  She was tall, and in every way majestic; her complexion, her throat, her arms, were admirable; she had a tolerable mouth, with beautiful teeth, somewhat long; and cheeks too broad, and too hanging, which interfered with, but did not spoil, her beauty.  What disfigured her most was her eyebrows, which were, as it were, peeled and red, with very little hair; she had, however, fine eyelashes, and well-set chestnut-coloured hair.  Without being hump-backed or deformed, she had one side larger than the other, and walked awry.  This defect in her figure indicated another, which was more troublesome in society, and which inconvenienced herself.  She had a good deal of intellect, and spoke with much ability.  She said all she wished, and often conveyed her meaning to you without directly expressing it; saying, as it were, what she did not say.  Her utterance was, however, slow and embarrassed, so that unaccustomed ears with difficulty followed her.