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      Isola rose to take leave, after having let her tea get cold, and dropped half her cake on the Persian rug. She felt shyer in that house than in any other. She had a feeling that there she was weighed in the balance and found wanting; that unfriendly eyes were scrutinizing her gloves and hat, and appraising her features and complexion. She felt herself insignificant, colourless, insipid beside that brilliant Miss Crowther, with her vivid beauty, and her self-assured airs and graces."Not as I used to care. One's taste changes as life goes on. Lately I have read nothing but Victor Hugo, and Keats, and Shelley."

      "Have you any idea of the cause of his unhappiness?"

      Isola and Lostwithiel had danced only two waltzes, but[Pg 69] since two o'clock they had sat out several dances, Mrs. Disney having cancelled all her engagements after that hour by declaring that she would dance no more.

      "This wood is the private property of J. Vansittart Crowther, Esq. Trespassers will be prosecuted."THE year 1788 was the last of the old rgime. Mme. Le Brun was now thirty-two and at the height of her fame and prosperity. She had more commissions than she could execute, more engagements than she could keep, more invitations than she could accept, but her mind was full of gloomy presentiments. She passed the summer as usual between Paris and the country houses where she stayed.



      I saw for myself personally a future darker than it proved to be; I felt that party spirit and the misfortune of having been attached to the house of Orlans would expose me to all kinds of calumnies and persecutions; I resigned myself in submission to Providence, for I knew that I deserved it, because if I had kept my promise to my friend, Mme. de Custine, if I had done my duty and remained with my second mother, Mme. de Puisieux, instead of entering the Palais Royal, or if, at the death of the Marchale dEtre, I had left Belle Chasse as my husband wished, no emigre could have been more peaceful and happy than I in foreign countries; with the general popularity of my books, my literary reputation, and the social talents I possessed.


      The last time Marie Antoinette ever sat to her was at Trianon, when she painted her head for the great picture in which the Queen is represented with her children, the first Dauphin, [20] Madame Royale, [21] and the Duc de Normandie, [22] which was [48] hung in the Salon of 1788, and excited universal admiration. It was afterwards taken to Versailles and hung in one of the salons through which the Queen always passed on her way to mass.Sil veut quun prlat soit chrtien,