in his thin sharp tones, "Amicus Plato sed magis amica Natio." Then, a
few days later, he treated his "friend Fontaine" to a quatrain,
harmless enough, which he styled an epigram, in which he made fun of
these three daughters so skilfully introduced, under the form of a
trinity. Nay, if report is to be believed, the monarch had found the
point of the jest in the Unity of the three Divine Persons.

"If your Majesty would only condescend to turn the epigram into an
epithalamium?" said the Count, trying to turn the sally to good
account.

"Though I see the rhyme of it, I fail to see the reason," retorted the
King, who did not relish any pleasantry, however mild, on the subject
of his poetry.

From that day his intercourse with Monsieur de Fontaine showed less
amenity. Kings enjoy contradicting more than people think. Like most
youngest children, Emilie de Fontaine was a Benjamin spoilt by almost
everybody. The King's coolness, therefore, caused the Count all the
more regret, because no marriage was ever so difficult to arrange as
that of this darling daughter. To understand all the obstacles we must
make our way into the fine residence where the official was housed at
the expense of the nation. Emilie had spent her childhood on the
family estate, enjoying the abundance which suffices for the joys of
early youth; her lightest wishes had been law to her sisters, her
brothers, her mother, and even her father. All her relations doted on
her. Having come to years of discretion just when her family was
loaded with the favors of fortune, the enchantment of life continued.
The luxury of Paris seemed to her just as natural as a wealth of
flowers or fruit, or as the rural plenty which had been the joy of her