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Rh "Ah!" exclaimed Madame de Brie, the old lady to whose care Francesca had been especially consigned by Madame de Mercœur, "these troubles of La Fronde have sadly scattered the beauties which surrounded the throne. You should have seen the court ten years ago."

"To me," replied Francesca, "the scene appears as if it could not be surpassed; but, then, I have seen nothing of the kind before."

"True, true, my dear; experience is everything—you are no judge till you begin to compare. You, if it had been only to form your taste, should have seen the beauties of the earlier period of the regency. There was the queen herself; fifteen years have somewhat palled the red and white of a complexion which in its day was unparalleled. Then there was the Duchesse de Longueville, whose languid loveliness was that of the lily—the flower sacred to her house; Madame de Montbazou, stately and dark-eyed like Juno, conjuring every heart by one look of her splendid face; or Madame de Chatillion, the very queen of smiles, and with a fascination even beyond her beauty. They might at least recall Mademoiselle de Montpensier—proud, but so fair, like the young queen of Palmyra."

Madame de Brie had quite forgotten that