inting fences
in the park. This painter was working with such expedition that M. de
Villette complimented him upon it. "Oh!" was the reply, "I'd undertake
to cover up in a day all that Rubens painted in his whole life!"

I dined several times at Saint Ouen, with the Duke de Nivernais, who
owned a very handsome residence there, and who gathered about him the
most agreeable company it was possible to meet. The Duke, always
praised for his elegant and pointed wit, had manners that were
dignified and gentle and without the slightest affectation. He was
particularly distinguished for his extreme civility to women of all
ages. In this respect I might speak of him as a model of whom I would
never have found a copy if I had not known the Count de Vaudreuil,
who, much younger than the Duke de Nivernais, added to his refined
gallantry a politeness that was the more flattering since it came from
the heart. In fact, it is very difficult to convey an idea to-day of
the urbanity, the graceful ease, in a word the affability of manner
which made the charm of Parisian society forty years ago. The women
reigned then; the Revolution dethroned them. The Duke de Nivernais was
very small and very lean. Although very old when I knew him, he was
still full of life; he was passionately fond of poetry, and wrote
charming verses.

I also dined frequently at the Marshal de Noailles's, in his fine
mansion situated at the entrance to Saint Germain. There was then an
immense park there, admirably kept. The Marshal was highly sociable;
his cleverness and good spirits infected all his guests, whom he
selected from among the literary celebrities and the most
distinguished people of the town and the court.

It was in 1786 that I went for the first time to Louveciennes, where I
had promised to paint Mme. Du Barry. She might then have been about
forty-five years old. She was tall without being too much so; she had
a certain roundness, her throat being rather pronounced but very
beautiful; her face was still attractive, her features were regular
and graceful; her hair was ashy, and curly like a child's. But her
complexion was beginning to fade. She received me with much courtesy,
and seemed to me very well behaved, but I found her more spontaneous
in mind than in manner: her glance was that of a coquette, for her
long eyes were never quite open, and her pronunciation had something
childish which no longer suited her age.

She lodged me in a part of the