[[A.D. 1712.]] This beautiful, affectionate, devoted daughter died of small-pox in April, and her brother was ill of the same disease when she was taken. The English at St. Germain were not more disconsolate than were the French at Versailles on account of the death of this young girl, whose charming qualities had rendered her a general favorite. But what must have been the agony of the poor {323}mother, who, after being deprived of the chief solace of her old age, saw her son recover only to be separated from her by the stern decree of circumstances? The negotiations of peace between France and England required the prince to withdraw entirely from the French dominions, and this had only been delayed on account of his illness. Well, the time came at last when the Chevalier de St. George was compelled to leave St. Germain, and his poor mother was so unhappy at parting with him that she went to Chaillot, where, in company of the nuns, she hoped to find comfort and resignation. She arrived at the convent at seven o'clock in the evening, and burst into tears as she passed through the gate, saying: "This is the first time that I feel no joy in coming to this holy spot; but, my God, I ask not consolation, but the accomplishment of thy divine will!" She sat down to supper, but ate nothing; and when she retired to her chamber, attended by the three nuns who waited on her, she exclaimed: "At last I may give liberty to my heart and weep for my poor girl." The nuns could not speak, their tears flowed in sympathy with their royal visitor, who said several times between her sobs, "My God, thy will be done," and then added: "Thou hast not waited for my death to despoil me: thou hast done it during my life; but thy will be done." The next day Mary Beatrice was so ill that her physicians had to be summoned; and as she continued to grow worse, it was feared that she would die at the convent; however, after a few days she recovered. On the very day that the truce with England was proclaimed in Paris the Chevalier de St. George went over from Livry to bid farewell to his mother. He met her at the church door as she came out; and as he had just been bled in the foot,--a form of medical treatment very popular {324}in those days,--he was lame and leaned on his cane for support. Mary Beatrice was suffering from an attack of gout, which obliged her also to make use of a cane; and the mother and son laughed heartily at the coincidence. The abbess said to the chevalier, "Sire, we hope your majesty will do us the honor to dine with us, as your royal uncle, King Charles, breakfasted when setting out for England." "That journey will not be yet for me," he replied, drily.