ich must
necessarily be made in polishing, given in. The bargain was concluded on
these terms. The interest upon the two millions was paid to the dealer
until the principal could be given to him, and in the meanwhile two
millions' worth of jewels were handed to him as security.

M. le Duc d'Orleans was agreeably deceived by the applause that the
public gave to an acquisition so beautiful and so unique. This diamond
was called the "Regent." It is of the size of a greengage plum, nearly
round, of a thickness which corresponds with its volume, perfectly white,
free from all spot, speck, or blemish, of admirable water, and weighs
more than 500 grains. I much applauded myself for having induced the
Regent to make so illustrious a purchase.

CHAPTER LXXXV

In 1716 the Duchesse de Lesdiguieres died at Paris in her fine hotel.
She was not old, but had been long a widow, and had lost her only son.
She was the last relic of the Gondi who were brought into France by
Catherine de' Medici, and who made so prodigious a fortune. She left
great wealth. She was a sort of fairy, who, though endowed with much
wit, would see scarcely anybody, still less give dinners to the few
people she did see. She never went to Court, and seldom went out of her
house. The door of her house was always thrown back, disclosing a
grating, through which could be perceived a true fairy palace, such as
is sometimes described in romances. Inside it was nearly desert, but of
consummate magnificence, and all this confirmed the first impression,
assisted by the singularity of everything, her followers, her livery,
the yellow hangings of her carriage, and the two great Moors who always
followed her. She left much to her servants, and for pious purposes, but
nothing to her daughter-in-law, though poor and respectful to her. Others
got magnificent legacies.

Cavoye died about the same time. I have said enough about him and his
wife to have nothing to add. Cavoye, away from Court, was like a fish
out of water; and he could not stand it long. If romances have rarely
produced conduct like that of his wife towards him, they would with still
greater difficulty describe the courage with which her lasting love for
her husband sustained her in her attendance on his last illness, and the
entombment to which she condemned herself afterwards. She preserved her
first mourning all her life, never slept away from the house where he
died, or went out, excep