her to the Duc de Guise,
their near relative, who, without ambition or pretension, seemed almost
astonished to see that the King gave, not a dowry, but a most lovely
verdure--[Drawing-room tapestry, much in vogue at that time]--, and an
enamelled dinner-service.

The marriage was celebrated at the chateau, without any special
ceremonies or preparations; so much so that two cushions, which had been
forgotten, had to be hastily fetched. I saw what was the matter, and
motioning the two attendants of the royal sacristy, I whispered to them
to fetch what was wanted from my own apartment.

Not knowing to what use these cushions were to be put, my 'valet de
chambre' brought the flowered velvet ones, on which my dogs were wont to
lie. I noticed this just as their Highnesses were about to kneel down,
and I felt so irresistibly inclined to laugh that I was obliged to retire
to my room to avoid bursting out laughing before everybody.

Fortunately the Guises did not get to know of this little detail until
long after, or they might have imagined that it was a planned piece of
malicious mockery. However, it is only fair to admit that the marriage
was treated in a very off-hand way, and it is that which always happens
to people whose modesty and candour hinder them from posing and talking
big when they get the chance. A strange delusion, truly!

Mademoiselle d'Orleans, the eldest child of the second marriage, is
considered one of the prettiest and most graceful of blondes. Her
endowments were surely all that a princess could need, if one except
reserve in speaking, and a general dignity of deportment.

When it was a question of giving her to Prince de Medici, Grand Duke of
Tuscany, she was all the while sincerely attached to handsome Prince
Charles de Lorraine, her maternal cousin. But the King, who, in his
heart of hearts, wanted to get hold of Lorraine for himself, could not
sanction this union; nay, he did more: he opposed it. Accordingly the
Princess, being urged to do so by her mother, consented to go to Italy,
and as we say at Court, expatriate herself.

The Bishop of Nziers, named De Bonzy, the Tuscan charge d'afaires, came,
on behalf of the Medici family, to make formal demand of her hand, and
had undertaken to bring her to her husband with all despatch. He had
undertaken an all too difficult task.

"Monsieur de Bonzy," said she to the prelate, "as it is you who here play
the part of interpreter and cavalier of