not knowing whether to remain or go
away. At last I acquainted her with my difficulty; said I fancied she
would like to be alone some little time before giving me her orders, but
that respect kept me equally in suspense as to whether I should go or
stay. After a short silence, she said she should like to see her women.
I rose, sent them to her, and said to them, if her Royal Highness asked
for me, I should be with the Duchesse Sforze, or the Marechale Rochefort;
but I could find neither of these two ladies, so I went up to Madame.

She rose as soon as I appeared, and said to me, with eagerness, "Well,
Monsieur, what news?" At the same time her ladies retired, and I was left
alone with her.

I commenced by an excuse for not coming to see her first, as was my duty,
on the ground that M. le Duc d'Orleans had assured me she would not
object to my commencing with Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans. She did not
object, in fact, but asked me for my news with much eagerness. I told
her what had happened. Joy spread over her face. She replied with a
mighty, "At last!" which she repeated, saying, her son long since ought
to have struck this blow, but that he was too good. I mentioned to her
that she was standing, but for politeness she remained so. After some
further talk she begged me to state all the details of this celebrated
morning.

I again recalled to her mind that she was standing, and represented that
what she desired to learn would take a long time to relate; but her ardor
to know it was extreme. I began then my story, commencing with the very
morning. At the end of a quarter of an hour, Madame seated herself, but
with the greatest politeness. I was nearly an hour with her, continually
telling and sometimes replying to her questions. She was delighted at
the humiliation of the Parliament, and of the bastards, and that her son
had at last displayed some firmness.

At this point the Marechale de Rochefort entered, and summoned me back to
Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans. I found that princess extended upon the
sofa where I had left her, an inkstand upon her knees and a pen in her
hand. She had commenced a reply to M. le Duc d'Orleans, but had not been
able to finish it. Looking at me with an air of gentleness and of
friendship, she observed, "Tears escape me; I have begged you to descend
in order to render me a service; my hand is unsteady, I pray you finish
my writing for me;" and she handed to me the inkstand a