predictions that had been made to her;
assured me of their fulfilment, poured forth
much of the of others on the same
subject, and ended by relating to me the
dream she had had the night before.

"At length the journey was over. I was
presented to the Duchesse de Veutadour; who
received me kindly, and spoke of my mother,
who had been her daughter's governess. The
next day I was taken to Madame de Noailles;
and, no sooner had I entered the room, than
my conductress called out, 'I have brought
the person I told you so much about, who is
so wonderfully clever, and knows such a
number of things. Come, child, speak. You
will hear how she talks.'

"I hesitated, and she began prompting me.
'Come, come, talk a little about religion,
first,' said she, 'and after that go on about
something else.'

"This absurd scene was acted over and
over again at all the different houses to
which she took me, and I was carried
about like a monkey who does tricks at a
fair!"

All this praise and patronage only led to
Mademoiselle de Launai's promotion to be the
waiting-woman of the Duchesse de Maine;
and, as she had not, she declares, the slightest
idea of the functions of such an attendant,
the Duchess was ill enough served. She
sewed her work upside down, and overturned
the powder and rouge in handing it to her
mistress. On one occasion having caught up
a powder box by the top, of course it fell;
but the Duchess merely remarked gently,
that she ought always to take everything up
by the bottom. The next thing she had to
hand was a purse; and, following the direction
given, she turned it upside down sending all
the louis d'ors flying about the room. Perhaps
Mademoiselle's pride exaggerated her own
clumsiness, to show her unfitness for a menial
office. The mistake of inferring that to perform
humble offices ill is proof of ability to do
greater things well, has often been made. It
was once accidentally mentioned in the presence
of a celebrated French statesman that
his own mother had been a cook. "That is
true," he replied; "my mother was a cook;
but I pledge you my honour that she was
almost the worst cook in France."

A chance letter, which Mademoiselle de
Launai wrote to M. de Fontenelle, in support
of a pretended prodigy in which he did not
believe (something akin to, but not nearly so
absurd as the spirit-rappings of the present
enlightened day), drew the writer for a time
from the obscurity into which her servitude
placed her. The letter was read, admired,
and talked of throughout Paris, and the
Duchesse de Maine felt proud of her femme
de chambre; without, however, changing her
position in any way for the better. At
length came all the troubles of the illegitimate
children of the king at his death. She
was in the thick of the plots, counterplots,
struggles, and defeats; in which the talents
of the neglected dependant were made so
useful as to involve her in the dangers of her
mistress, and in the end to send her prisoner
to the Bastille.

It was in that sombre retreat that the most
romantic, and perhaps the happiest portion of
Mademoiselle de Launai's life was passed. A
Chevalier de Mesnil, implicated in the offence
of the Duchess's husband the Duke de Maine,
had been sent to the Bastille at the same
time as the too accomplished chamber woman.
He was placed in a cell close to her own, and
the happy idea entered both their minds
to form an attachment, although they had
never met nor seen each other. It was
enough that their prisons joined. They
could converse, they could hear, and they
could write; for the lieutenant of the prison
was indulgent, and took charge of their
letters.

This romantic intercourse went on for some
time; during which the lovers agreed that
they were happier in confinement than at
liberty, and neither desired to be set free,
dreading to lose the other's society. This
ideal pleasure, was, however, put a stop to by
the release of both. The denouement was
of the old sort:—Mademoiselle de Launai
was faithful to her vows, but her lover forgot
his.

M. Dacier—the widower of that learned and
excellent classical writer, Madame Dacier,
whose fame has survived her—became enamoured
and proposed to Mademoiselle de
Launai; but the Duchesse de Maine, selfish to
the last, refused her consent and opposed the
marriage with all her power. Indignant,
disgusted, and wearied with her uncongenial
occupation, the young lady then resolved to
enter a convent. This was equally opposed;
but, after much annoyance, inconvenience,
and vain resistance the ill-requited attendant
at length consented to a proposed alliance
which suited her mistress; and became the
wife of Captain de Staal, an officer of the
guards, and afterwards Maréchal de Camp.
From this time Madame de Staal became a
lady of honour to the duchess, ate at her
table, and had a carriage at her disposal.

She thus speaks of her husband: "I was
satisfied with his manners, for he possessed
a certain natural refinement which belongs to
a good heart and benevolent mind. He had
no evil propensities, and took the straight
road to virtue, without an idea of swerving
from what he felt to be right. He was unalterably
calm; his temper was perfectly
even, his views clear because unclouded by
passion, with more judgment than variety in
his thoughts. He had but little conversation,
yet his remarks were always sensible.
Although he was quite incapable of exciting
enthusiasm, it was equally impossible
for him to create disgust. I married him,
and discovered that he held a rank by
nature to which study rarely attains."