On the night of the King's arrival at Blois, this damsel was disfigured with mosquito bites. Her dancing was much extolled, but on this special evening, she danced very badly. Gaston had announced that this little girl of ten "would astonish every one with her brilliant conversation." No one could draw a single word from her. In short, nothing succeeded. Mademoiselle was not especially vexed at this failure; she had trembled at the thought of seeing her younger sister "above her." Hardly had the Court remounted their carriages, before the royal cavalcade, according to the universal custom, commenced to mock its hosts. The King joked at the sight of his uncle's face on seeing the pheasants fall dead. Mademoiselle laughed with the others. She had, however, been moved by a tender scene played by her father. He had come to awaken her at four o'clock in the morning: He seated himself on my bed and said: "I believe that you will not be vexed at being waked since I shall not soon have the chance of again seeing you. You are going to take a long journey. I am old, exhausted; I may die during your absence. If I do die, I recommend your sisters to you. I know very well that you do not love Madame: that her behaviour towards you has not been all it should be; but her children have had nothing to do with this, for my sake take care of them. They will have need of you; as for Madame, she will be of little help to them." He embraced me three or four times. I received all this with much tenderness; for I have a good heart. We separated on the best terms, and I went again to sleep. Mademoiselle believed that at length they again loved each other. Six weeks later a scandal broke out at the Court of France, then at Bordeaux. The Duc de Savoie had refused to marry the Princess Marguerite d'Orleans, and Mademoiselle was accused of having secretly written to him that her sister was a humpback. The accusation came from Gaston himself, who said that he had proof of it. This was a most disagreeable incident for Mademoiselle and further illusion was impossible; Gaston was always Gaston, the most dangerous man in France. From Bordeaux, the Court went to Toulouse; there it was rejoined by Mazarin, who had just signed the peace of the Pyrenees (November 7, 1659). All histories give the articles of this peace. The results for Europe have been summed up in some brilliant lines written by the great German historian, Leopold Ranke, who had been struck with the advantages which this treaty gave France over Germany: