"You perceive, Lady de Wick, what a trial it is to have four clever daughters—not to speak of sons. My daughter, the Princess Elizabeth, is the most learned of women; I think she knows every language under the sun. You have seen the paintings of the Princess Louise. Sophia is witty and pretty, and is to be the mother of an English King; and my fair Henrietta is a beauty, and what is remarkable, she is also amiable, and makes adorable embroideries and confections. So the mother of four such princesses must not complain." "Especially when she has seventeen dogs and horses; not to speak of monkeys and blackamoors," cried Sophia. "Sophia is jealous!" said the merry ex-Queen. "So is Rupert. Now, I am never jealous; I think jealousy is selfishness." Such intimate conversations occurred daily while Matilda frequented the House at The Hague; and when Sir Thomas Jevery was ready to proceed to Paris, the ladies did not leave their pleasant entertainer without tangible, financial proof of their interest in the Palatines. The light-hearted, dependent Elizabeth took the offering with open satisfaction. "It is very welcome," she said gratefully; "and the more so, because it is so sensibly expressed. Some would have thought it best to offer me a jewel, and so put my steward to the trouble of selling it, and me to the loss. Oh!" she sighed, smiling cheerfully at the same time, "it is a sad thing to be poor for want of money; poverty is so transparent. If you have only money, it is a cloak for everything." *CHAPTER X* *RUPERT AND CLUNY* "Beauty formed Her face; her heart Fidelity." "For he was of that noble trade, That demigods and heroes made; Slaughter, and knocking on the head, The trade to which they all were bred." When the Jeverys arrived in Paris, they went immediately to the beautiful Hotel de Fransac, which Sir Thomas had rented for their residence while in the city. It was situated in La Place Royale, almost within sight of the palaces of the King and the Cardinal. But Sir Thomas considered it necessary to the success of his business with Mazarin to wear the outside show of great wealth, and it was quite as necessary to Matilda’s hopes and desires. If she would keep in enthralment a prince, she must, at least, be the princess of his imagination. In reality, she was now much more so than ever before. Years and sorrow and manifold experiences had imparted to the mere loveliness of the flesh the captivating charm of the spirit. She was now a woman, not only to be adored for her beauty, but still more so for the qualities that would be in their perfection when beauty of face and form had faded away.