her; and where that Prince, blinded by a feeling unworthy of a sovereign
and the father of a family, caused the young Princess, the royal family,
and the ladies of the Court, to sit down to supper with Madame du Barry.

The Dauphiness was hurt at this conduct; she spoke of it openly enough to
those with whom she was intimate, but she knew how to conceal her
dissatisfaction in public, and her behaviour showed no signs of it.

She was received at Versailles in an apartment on the ground floor, under
that of the late Queen, which was not ready for her until six months after
her marriage.

The Dauphiness, then fifteen years of age, beaming with freshness,
appeared to all eyes more than beautiful. Her walk partook at once of the
dignity of the Princesses of her house, and of the grace of the French;
her eyes were mild, her smile amiable. When she went to chapel, as soon
as she had taken the first few steps in the long gallery, she discerned,
all the way to its extremity, those persons whom she ought to salute with
the consideration due to their rank; those on whom she should bestow an
inclination of the head; and lastly, those who were to be satisfied with a
smile, calculated to console them for not being entitled to greater
honours.

Louis XV. was enchanted with the young Dauphiness; all his conversation
was about her graces, her vivacity, and the aptness of her repartees. She
was yet more successful with the royal family when they beheld her shorn
of the splendour of the diamonds with which she had been adorned during
the first days of her marriage. When clothed in a light dress of gauze or
taffety she was compared to the Venus dei Medici, and the Atalanta of the
Marly Gardens. Poets sang her charms; painters attempted to copy her