into his arched back. With a
muttered exclamation he straightened himself and tore off her mask.
Ben-Hepple goes on to say that his Majesty went from scarlet to white,
from white to green, and then back again to scarlet before he made his
world-famed remark, "_Mon Dieu! Quel visage!_" At this moment Du Barry
appeared, furious at being left, and dragged her royal paramour away.
But the mischief was done. The wheel of circumstance had turned once
more--and a few days later Julie changed her _appartements_ for some on
a higher landing.

What vice! What intrigue! What corruption! Versailles seemed but a vast
conservatory sheltering the vile soil from which sprang the lilies of
France--La Belle France, as Edgar Sheepmeadow so eloquently puts it.
Did any single bloom escape the blight of ineffable depravity? No--not
one! Occasionally some fresh young thing would appear at
Court--appealing and innocent. Then the atmosphere would begin to take
effect: some one would whisper something to her--she would leer almost
unconsciously; a few days later she would be discovered carrying on
anyhow!

Julie de Poopinac, beautiful, accomplished and incredibly witty, queened
it in this _melee_ of appalling degeneracy; she was not at heart wicked,
but her environment closed in upon her pinched and wasted heart,
crushing the youth and sweetness from it.

She held between her slim fingers the reins of government, and womanlike
she twisted them this way and that, her foolish head slightly turned by
adulation and flattery. Louis adored her: he gave her a cameo brooch, a
beaded footstool (which his mother had used), and the loveliest cock
linnet, which used to fly about all over the place, singing songs of its
own composition.

All the world knows of her celebrated scene with Marie Antoinette, but
Edgar Sheepmeadow recounts it so deliciously in Volume III of "Women
Large and Women Small" that it would be a sin not to quote it. "They
met," he says, "on the Grand Staircase. The Dauphine, with her usual
hauteur, was mounting with her head held high. Julie, by some
misfortune, happened to get in her way. The Dauphine, not seeing her,
trod heavily on her foot, then jogged her in the ribs with her elbow.
Though realising who it was, the great lady could not but apologise.
Drawing herself up as high as possible, she said in icy tones, 'I beg
your pardon!' Quick as thought Julie replied, 'Granted as soon as
asked!' Then with a toss of her curls she ra