acquired taste, and much more information than any of his predecessors had possessed.  As for the heaviness of his air, it only came upon him when he grew fat; before that, he had a delightful face.  He was then as handsome as his sister.  He paid court to nobody, had no vanity, and confined himself to the society of persons with whom he was at his ease.  He went rather more into company at Court after the King had taken him to ride with him in his carriage, thinking it then his duty to shew himself among the courtiers.

Madame called me, one day, into her closet, where the King was walking up and down in a very serious mood.  “You must,” said she, “pass some days in a house in the Avenue de St. Cloud, whither I shall send you.  You will there find a young lady about to lie in.”  The King said nothing, and I was mute from astonishment.  “You will be mistress of the house, and preside, like one of the fabulous goddesses, at the accouchement.  Your presence is necessary, in order that everything may pass secretly, and according to the King’s wish.  You will be present at the baptism, and name the father and mother.”  The King began to laugh, and said, “The father is a very honest man;” Madame added, “beloved by every one, and adored by those who know him.”  Madame then took from a little cupboard a small box, and drew from it an aigrette of diamonds, at the same time saying to the King, “I have my reasons for it not being handsomer.”—­“It is but too much so,” said the King; “how kind you are;” and he then embraced Madame, who wept with emotion, and, putting her hand upon the King’s heart, said, “This is what I wish to secure.”  The King’s eyes then filled with tears, and I also began weeping, without knowing why.  Afterwards, the King said, “Guimard will call upon you every day, to assist you with his advice, and at the critical moment you will send for him.  You will say that you expect the sponsors, and a moment after you will pretend to have received a letter, stating that they cannot come.  You will, of course, affect to be very much embarrassed; and Guimard will then say that there is nothing for it but to take the first comers.  You will then appoint as godfather and godmother some beggar, or chairman, and the servant girl of the house, and to whom you will give but twelve francs, in order not to attract attention.”—­“A louis,” added Madame, “to obviate anything singular, on the other hand.”—­“It is you who make me economical, under certain circumstances,” said the King.  “Do you remember the driver of the fiacre?  I wanted to give him a louis, and Duc d’Ayen said, ‘You will be known;’ so that I gave him a crown.”  He was going to tell the whole story.  Madame made a sign to him to be silent, which he obeyed, not without considerable reluctance.  She afterwards told me that at the time of the fetes given on occasion of the Dauphin’s marriage, the King came to see her at her mother’s house in a hackney-coach.  The coachman would not go on, and the King would have given him a louis.  “The police will hear of it, if you do,” said the Duc d’Ayen, “and its spies will make inquiries, which will, perhaps, lead to a discovery.”