in her attentions to Her Majesty on her second lying-in.  The circumstances of the death of Maria Theresa, the Queen’s mother, in the interval which divided the two accouchements, and Her Majesty’s anguish, and refusal to see any but De Lamballe and De Polignac, are too well known to detain us longer from the notes of the Princess.  It is enough for the reader to know that the friendship of Her Majesty for her superintendent seemed to be gradually reviving in all its early enthusiasm, by her unremitting kindness during the confinements of the Queen, till, at length, they became more attached than ever.  But, not to anticipate, let me return to the narrative.]

“The public feeling had undergone a great change with respect to Her Majesty from the time of her first accouchement.  Still, she was not the mother of a future King.  The people looked upon her as belonging to them more than she had done before, and faction was silenced by the general delight.  But she had not yet attained the climax of her felicity.  A second pregnancy gave a new excitement to the nation; and, at length, on the 22nd October, 1781, dawned the day of hope.

“In consequence of what happened on the first accouchement, measures were taken to prevent similar disasters on the second.  The number admitted into the apartment was circumscribed.  The silence observed left the Queen in uncertainty of the sex to which she had given birth, till, with tears of joy, the King said to her:  ’Madame, the hopes of the nation, and mine, are fulfilled.  You are the mother of a Dauphin.’

“The Princesse Elizabeth and myself were so overjoyed that we embraced every one in the room.

“At this time Their Majesties were adored.  Marie Antoinette, with all her beauty and amiableness, was a mere cipher in the eyes of France previous to her becoming the mother of an heir to the Crown; but her popularity now arose to a pitch of unequalled enthusiasm.

“I have heard of but one expression to Her Majesty upon this occasion in any way savouring of discontent.  This came from the royal aunts.  On Marie Antoinette’s expressing to them her joy in having brought a Dauphin to the nation, they replied, ’We will only repeat our father’s observation on a similar subject.  When one of our sisters complained to his late Majesty that, as her Italian husband had copied the Dauphin’s whim, she could not, though long a bride, boast of being a wife, or hope to become a mother—­“a prudent Princess,” replied Louis XV., “never wants heirs!"’ But the feeling of the royal aunts was an exception to the general sentiment, which really seemed like madness.

“I remember a proof of this which happened at the time.  Chancing to cross the King’s path as he was going to Marly and I coming from Rambouillet, my two postillions jumped from their horses, threw themselves on the high road upon their knees, though it was very dirty, and remained there, offering up their benedictions, till he was out of sight.