Poor Grammont's one object in life was that his peace might be made with
his king. He lived only in the hope of a recall to Versailles.

Frances made a graceful courtesy, as she kissed their Highness's hands,
and, when the brief ceremony of presentation to the duke was over, turned
to Mary and me, glad to have a moment's respite beside us. She said
nothing, but I could see that for the moment the gorgeous scene about
us had bewildered her. The vast mouldings of gold, the frescoed cupids,
nymphs and goddesses, the wonderful paintings, the brilliant tapestries,
all fairly shone in the light of a thousand wax candles, while the
polished floor of many-colored woods was a mirror under her feet,
reflecting all this beauty.

The powdered and rouged courtiers, arrayed in silks, gold lace and
jewels, seemed more like creatures from a land of phantasy than beings of
flesh and blood. The men with their great curled wigs, their plumed,
bejewelled hats and glittering gold swords, seemed to have stepped from
the pages of a wonderful picture-book, and the women, whose gorgeous
gowns exposed their bepowdered skin halfway to their waists, measuring
from the chin, and whose lifted petticoats made a proportionate display,
measuring from the feet, surely were brought from some fair land of folly
and shame.

I touched Frances's hand to awaken her, and whispered: "Show neither
wonder nor interest. See nothing, or these fools about us will laugh."

She laughed nervously, nodding her head to tell me that she understood.

"But I must look. I can't help it," she said.