Clever actress and dramatist that she was, she never took more pains with her setting than on this occasion. She herself had drawn the plans “for the charming pavilion in the midst of the convent garden,” where she and her pupils were to live. Hers, too, of course, was the idea of the vine-covered pergola which connected it with the convent. The ceremony of installation was arranged, one may be sure, by her, though she passes it off as a “gentillesse” of the community. “I felt nothing but joy in entering this peaceable asylum where I was to exercise so sweet a sovereignty: I reflected that I should be able to give myself up to my real tastes, and I should be no longer exposed to the malice which had caused me such pain.” There was not very much “seclusion” for the first few days, at all events. Everybody of her acquaintance, whether at the Palais Royal, or out of it, had heard so much of the establishment at Bellechasse that there was a rush to see it. Madame de Genlis, for all her “quiet” tastes, had the greatest pleasure in the world showing them round. “Everyone was enchanted with the place, which was really charming. I had in my room a large alcove, of which my bed only occupied the half; from it, there opened a passage, leading to the Princesses’ room, where a glass door without a curtain enabled me to see from my own bed everything that was going on. One of the rooms of the suite held in glass-cases my whole natural history collection. This and my bureau were all I had brought with me from the Palais Royal.” You will never guess why the “bureau” has such importance until Madame tells you that “she was the first woman to have a bureau,” and was very much criticised for it, though now it was all the fashion. In those Rousseau days one took much thought for one’s dairy, and Madame de Genlis tells of one built by the Duke, and to which she had the pleasure of leading a charming milk-maid, after having married her to the young German gardener. Rousseau and Madame de Maintenon are both in her mind when she tells us of the economy with which she managed the establishment—“such a remarkable economy that it has been much talked about,” she adds with complacence. “My first principle was to make up my account every day, and to know the price of things, and especially the quantities of food-stuffs given out every day in the kitchen for the different meals.... I knew exactly how much rice or vermicelli was needed for soup for four, eight, twelve persons. I knew the exact quantities required of sugar, jam, cream, oil, butter, milk, cheese, eggs, etc. I sent to the markets every week a man I could trust: he inquired in great detail about the price of all provisions, and brought me back the information in writing.” Details like these, constantly occurring in the Letters of Madame de Maintenon to her brother and young sister-in-law, gave Madame de Genlis the greatest pleasure.