the circle of
courtiers, probably in order to see if among them there was anyone to
whom she owed an account of her daintiness. She found that person, I
suppose, for she said,

"Monsieur de Lowendal!"

At that name, a fine-looking man came forward with respectful
inclination, and said,

"Your majesty?"

"I believe this is a fricassee of chickens."

"I am of the same opinion, madam."

After this answer, given in the most serious tone, the queen continued
eating, and the marshal retreated backward to his original place. The
queen finished her dinner without uttering a single word, and retired to
her apartments the same way as she had come. I thought that if such was
the way the queen of France took all her meals, I would not sue for the
honour of being her guest.

I was delighted to have seen the famous captain who had conquered
Bergen-op-Zoom, but I regretted that such a man should be compelled to
give an answer about a fricassee of chickens in the serious tone of a
judge pronouncing a sentence of death.

I made good use of this anecdote at the excellent dinner Silvia gave to
the elite of polite and agreeable society.

A few days afterwards, as I was forming a line with a crowd of courtiers
to enjoy the ever new pleasure of seeing the king go to mass, a pleasure
to which must be added the advantage of looking at the naked and entirely
exposed arms and bosoms of Mesdames de France, his daughters, I suddenly
perceived the Cavamacchia, whom I had left in Cesena under the name of
Madame Querini. If I was astonished to see her, she was as much so in
meeting me in such a place. The Marquis of Saint Simon, premier
'gentilhomme' of the Prince de Conde, escorted her.

"Madame Querini in Fontainebleau?"

"You here? It reminds me of Queen Elizabeth saying,

"'Pauper ubique facet.'"

"An excellent comparison, madam."

"I am only joking, my dear friend; I am here to see the king, who does
not know me; but to-morrow the ambassador will present me to his
majesty."

She placed herself in the line within a yard or two from me, beside the
door by which the king was to come. His majesty entered the gallery with
M. de Richelieu, and looked at the so-called Madame Querini. But she very
likely did not take his fancy, for, continuing to walk on, he addressed
to the marshal these remarkable words, which Juliette must have
overheard,

"We have handsomer women here."

In the afternoon I called upon the Venetian ambassador