on the contrary, cared little about dress, loved the chase and shooting,
was fond of talking of war, and had all manly tastes and habits.
Monsieur behaved well in battle, but never talked of it; he loved women
as companions, and was pleased to be with them. The King loved to see
them somewhat nearer, and not entirely en honneur, as Monsieur did.

[Madame is not a good authority on this point. The memoirs of the
time will show either that she cannot have known or must have
wilfully concealed the intrigues of various kinds in which her
husband was engaged.]

They nevertheless loved one another much, and it was very interesting to
see them together. They joked each other sensibly and pleasantly, and
without ever quarrelling.

I was never more amused than in a journey which I took with the King to
Flanders. The Queen and the Dauphine were then alive. As soon as we
reached a city, each of us retired to our own quarters for a short time,
and afterwards we went to the theatre, which was commonly so bad that we
were ready to die with laughing. Among others, I remember that at
Dunkirk we saw a company playing Mithridates. In speaking to Monimia,
Mithridates said something which I forget, but which was very absurd.
He turned round immediately to the Dauphine and said, "I very humbly beg
pardon, Madame, I assure you it was a slip of the tongue." The laugh
which followed this apology may be imagined, but it became still greater
when the Prince of Conti,

[Louis-Armaud de Bourbon, Prince de Conti, married in 1780 to
Marie-Anne, commonly called Mademoiselle de Blois, one of the
legitimated daughters of Louis XIV. by Madame de la Valliere. She