“Thereupon we conversed about you, and then about Admiral Keppel, then of the turkey, then of the capture of our two frigates, then of the Spanish Inquisition, then of a large gruyere cheese which our ambassador in Switzerland has just sent his children, then of the strange conduct of the Spaniards towards us, and at last of Mademoiselle Théodore, who, upon my life, dances better than ever, and who pleased us yesterday as much by her talent as Mademoiselle Cécile by her youthful charms. To-morrow the Queen will receive for the first time; till now she has only seen those who have the ‘_petites entrées_’; she is rather thinner, but otherwise her health leaves nothing to be desired. The King is still the good husband, the good father, and the good man he has always been; it is impossible to be near him without admiring him as the personification of honesty, and without being sincerely attached to his person. I assure you we are fortunate in possessing such a royal couple: may God preserve them on the throne where His goodness has placed them!... We are all going to-morrow to Paris to inaugurate the charming little house M. le Duc de Coigny has bought, and in which we shall have----What do you think we shall have?----Our first grand entertainment--a regular house-warming. We shall have farces, proverbs, verses, songs, and pleasures of all kinds; it will be a beautiful ceremony. “_À propos_ of verses: you have not seen those I wrote the other day for the Queen, threatening to play her the trick she most dreads--that is, to name her at the opera ball. Here it is:-- “Dans ce temple ou l’incognito Règne avec la folie, Vous n’êtes grâce au domino Ni reine in jolie. Sous ce double déguisement Riant d’être ignorée, Je vous nomme et publiquement Vous serez adorée.[16] “I implore you, Prince, my very dear Prince, do not massacre my song in honouring me by singing it yourself; leave that care to my cousin, who will give it its full value; love her for me, and tell her I shall go to Brussels, on my head if necessary, to see her; you must love me, both of you.”[17] The Queen was an object of devotion to the Prince de Ligne. “Who could see the unfortunate Marie Antoinette without adoring her?” he writes thirty years later.[18] “I only realised it the day she said to me: ‘My mother is displeased at your remaining so long at Versailles; go and spend some days at your post; from thence write letters to Vienna, in order to show where you are, then come back.’ Such kindness, such delicacy on her part, and still more the idea of having to spend a fortnight without seeing her, drew tears from my eyes; but the charming heedlessness, which preserved her from all coquetry prevented her noticing my emotion.