I wished to wear the most formal and deepest mourning. Every one of my household was clad in black, even to the cooks, the servants, and the valets; the coverings of the mules, all the caparisons of my horses and of the other beasts of burden. Nothing could be more beautiful the first time we marched than to see this grand train, expressive of grief. It had an air very magnificent and of real grandeur. Everybody says how much wealth she must possess! The mules' mourning is well worth the training mantle of the little Monsieur. This magnificent funeral pomp had the one inconvenience of recalling to all comers that Mademoiselle must resign other pleasures. At the end of some weeks, she would have willingly resumed her share in Court gaieties; Anne of Austria kindly commanded her to return to life. The summer was, however, approaching. The Court continued to drag itself from city to city, waiting until it should please the King of Spain to bring his daughter, and the time seemed long. Mazarin shut himself up to work. Louis drilled the soldiers of his guard. The Queen Mother spent long days in convents. Mademoiselle wrote, or worked tapestry. A large number of the courtiers, no longer able to stand the ennui, had returned to Paris; those who remained, lived lives of complete idleness. The King had at this time a fine occasion to study the condition of his provinces; but he did not possess an investigating mind. He spent long months in front of the Pyrenees, without seeking to know anything of their formation, showing an unusual indifference to knowledge, even for this period. One of the few persons who risked themselves in the Pyrenees, Mme. de Motteville, relates her astonishment at discovering valleys, torrents, cultivated fields, and inhabitants. She had believed that she should only find a great wall of rock, "deserted and untilled." The journey went on; but nature had not yet the right of entrance into literature, and society spoke but rarely of its charms. Of the vast world, only what came directly under the eyes of the individual was known. At length, on June 2d (1660), the Court of France, "kicking its heels" at Saint-Jean-de-Luz during an entire month, received news of the arrival at Fontarabia of Philip IV. and of the Infanta Marie Therese. The next day, the marriage ceremonies commenced. Six long days and the best intentions on both sides were needed to consummate this great affair without offending etiquette. The problem presented was this: How to marry the King of France with the daughter of the King of Spain, without permitting the King of France to put his foot on Spanish territory, nor the King of Spain on that belonging to France, and at the same time not to allow the Infanta to quit her father before the ceremony had actually taken place?