ellow silky article with silver flowerings,
pulled off, and flung round his loins; upon which he sat down again,
and,"--observe it, ye privileged of mankind,--"the Change of Shirt took
place! 'They put the clean shirt down over his head,' says Anton, 'and
plucked up the dirty one from within, so that of the naked skin you saw
little or nothing.'" Here is a miracle worth getting out of bed to look
at!

"His Majesty now quitted chair and dressing-gown; stood up before the
fire; and, after getting on the rest of his clothing, which, on account
of Czarina Anne's death [readers remember that], was of violet or
mourning color, he had the powder-mantle thrown round him, and sat down
at the Toilette to have his hair frizzled. The Toilette, a table with
white cover shoved into the middle of the room, had on it a mirror, a
powder-knife, and"--no mortal cares what. "The King," what all mortals
note, as they do the heavenly omens, "is somewhat talky; speaks
sometimes with the Dutch Ambassador, sometimes with the Pope's Nuncio,
who seems a jocose kind of gentleman; sometimes with different French
Lords, and at last with the Cardinal Fleury also,--to whom, however, he
does not look particularly gracious,"--not particularly this time.
These are the omens; happy who can read them!--Majesty then did
his morning-prayer, assisted only by the common Almoners-in-waiting
(Cardinal took no hand, much less any other); Majesty knelt before his
bed, and finished the business 'in less than six seconds.' After which
mankind can ebb out to the Anteroom again; pay their devoir to the
Queen's Majesty, which all do; or wait for the Transit to Morning
Chapel, and see Mesdames of France and the others flitting past in their
sedans.

"Queen's Majesty was already altogether dressed," says Geusau, almost
as if with some disappointment; "all in black; a most affable courteous
Majesty; stands conversing with the Russian Ambassador, with the Dutch
ditto, with the Ladies about her, and at last, 'in a friendly and merry
tone,' with old Cardinal Fleury. Her Ladies, when the Queen spoke with
them, showed no constraint at all; leant loosely with their arms on
the fire-screens, and took things easy. Mesdames of France"--Geusau saw
Mesdames. Poor little souls, they are the LOQUE, the COCHON (Rag, Pig,
so Papa would call them, dear Papa), who become tragically visible again
in the Revolution time:--all blooming young children as yet (Queen's
Majesty some thirty-sev