ng stable. We should imitate cats in our
attachments, and rather identify ourselves with the house than the
possessor of it. I trust you have secured an ample provision for the
future; neglect not the present, to-morrow may come in vain for you.

"Be sure you let me know the spot to which you permanently retire, and I
will endeavour to see you as frequently as my engagements will admit of."

"Adieu, _ma belle petite_."

Spite of the bitterness of my feelings, this letter drew a smile to
my lips; the allusion to cats which had escaped the marechale exactly
applied to her own character, of which I had been warned before I became
acquainted with her; but her protestations of warm and unutterable
attachment had gained my confidence, and I allowed myself to be guided
implicitly by her.

The duchesse d'Aiguillon was waiting for me while I perused the above
letter; at length, with a sigh, I prepared to quit that palace of
delights where I had reigned absolute mistress. I cast a mournful look
around me, on those splendid walks, fountains and statues, worthy the
gardens of Armida, but where there reigned, at this early hour, a sort
of gloomy silence; whilst, in that chamber where love had well nigh
deified me and recognised me as queen of France, lay extended the
monarch so lately my protector and friend.

It was the Wednesday of the fifth of May that I took my seat in the
carriage of the duchesse d'Aiguillon accompanied by my sister-in-law and
the vicomtesse Adolphe, who would not forsake me. Bischi remained
with madame d'Hargicourt, whose duties detained her with the comtesse
d'Artois. Her husband also remained at Versailles, while comte Jean and
his son proceeded to Paris. I will not attempt to describe the emotions
with which I quitted my magnificent suite of apartments, and traversed
the halls and staircases already crowded by persons anxiously awaiting
the first intimation of the king's decease. I was wrapped in my pelisse,
and effectually eluded observation. It has been said that I left
Versailles at four o'clock in the morning, but that was a mere invention
on the part of my servants to baffle the curiosity of those who might
have annoyed me by their presence.

We pursued our way in mournful reflection, whilst madame d'Aiguillon,
with her wonted goodness, sought by every means to distract me from
the dejection in which I was buried. Her husband, who remained with the
king, engaged to write me a true account of all