but he always made me long more than ever for a child of my own.

Perhaps, I thought gloomily as the year came to its close, even though our marriage has been consummated it may not be fruitful.

I was in despair. I sought the old pleasures to console myself. Artois was always at my side, determined to bring me out of my solemn mood, he told me, and make me enjoy life again. Let us disguise ourselves; let us go to the Opera ball.

It was carnival time and I longed to go to the ball, but when my husband asked me if I were going I said No, because I believed he would prefer I did not. He hastily replied that he would not dream of keeping me from my pleasure and that I should go to the ball as long as I was accompanied by the Comte de Provence. So I started dancing again. I began visiting the Princesse de Guemenee’s apartment and playing heavily. Joseph’s warnings were forgotten and I was back with the old bad habits.

We played games and tricks together and on each other. Artois was always playing practical jokes and I and the Prince de Ligne decided to play one on him. We often had music in the Orangerie, and very high up in a niche on the wall there was a bust of Louis XIV. When the concert was over and we were leaving the Orangerie, Artois always bowed low to this statue and cried: “Bonsoir, Gran’pere.” I thought it would give him a shock if the statue answered, so I arranged that we should get a ladder and the Prince de Ligne should climb up to the statue; we would then remove the ladder and the Prince would answer Artois in deep serious tones.

We were convulsed with laughter thinking how alarmed Artois would be believing that he had called the shade of his great and formidable ancestor from his grave by his frivolous raillery.

However, the Prince refused at the last moment because he had been told by one of his friends that someone had decided to carry the joke a bit further by refusing to bring the ladder back by which he would descend, so that he would not-be able to get down.

The Prince had no great desire to spend the night high up in the Orangerie with the bust of Louis XIV, and the joke fell through. But that was the sort of life we were leading.

And when I was in the depth of my despair believing I should never have a child, to my great joy I guessed I might be pregnant. I was so excited I could scarcely go about my normal affairs. I was terrified that I might be wrong; and I was determined I was not going to say anything until I was sure. Everyone had watched me expectantly at first, now they ceased to do so; and I was glad of it.

I did not want to do anything but dream about the child. I pretended to be ill one of my ‘nervous affectations’ so that I should be alone to think.

“Monsieur Ie Dauphin,” I said to myself a hundred times a day.

I studied my body but there was no difference as yet. I was very careful getting in and out of my bath lest I should slip. My bath was shaped like a sabot and for the sake of modesty I wore a long flannel gown buttoned to the neck when I sat in it; and when I came out I always made one of the two bathing women in attendance hold a cloth in front of me so that my attendants should not see me. Now I felt this to be doubly necessary. Not that my body had changed one little bit.

The weeks passed and I clung to my secret and at last I felt convinced. I was certain I had felt the child move within me.

My husband should be told first. I was so excited that I did not know how to break the news. I knew he would be overcome with emotion too.

Did he not desire this as much as I did?

I went to his apartments. I was half laughing, half crying.

He rose when he saw me and came towards me in consternation.

Laughing I cried: “Sire, I have come to lodge a complaint against one of your subjects.”

He was startled. What has happened “He has kicked me.”

“Kicked you I’ Indignation and horror.

I burst out laughing.

“In the womb,” I answered.

“He is young yet, so I hope Your Majesty will not be too severe.

He looked at me, wonder dawning on his face. The child had not kicked;

he was too young yet; but perhaps I imagined that I could feel him moving, I wanted him so much.

“Can it be?” whispered my husband.

I nodded; then he embraced me; and we remained clinging to each other for some minutes.

We were so happy; yet we both wept.

I wrote to my mother:

“Madame, my dear Mother, my first impulse, which I regret not having followed some weeks ago, was to write to you of my hopes. I stopped myself when I thought of the sadness it would cause you if my hopes proved false….”

I no longer wanted to dance. It would be bad for the child. I wanted to sit and dream. I wrote again to my mother:

“There are still moments when I think it is only a dream, but this dream goes on and I think I need no longer doubt….”

Had I ever been so happy? I did not think so. A child . all of my own!

I was a little absent-minded when Armand came to sit on my bed. I did not see him. I saw another child. My own . my baby Dauphin.

I was writing to my mother frequently of all my hopes, how I was going to care for my Dauphin, what I was preparing for him. I was taking care of myself. I took quiet walks in the gardens of Versailles and Trianon; I liked to sit and talk in the petits appartements, listening to gentle music and doing a little needlework. I was planning my baby’s clothes. I wanted to do so much for him myself. I could not wait for him to be born. I wrote to my mother:

“The manner in which they are brought up now is much less constricting. Babies should not be swaddled. They should be in a light cradle or carried in one’s arms. I learn that they should be out of doors as soon as possible so that they can grow accustomed to fresh air by degrees, and they end by being in it almost the whole of the day. I believe it to be good and healthy for them. I have arranged for my baby to be lodged downstairs, and there shall be a little railing separating him from the rest of the terrace. This will teach him to walk early How I longed to have him with me. I was impatient of the waiting.

The discomforts of pregnancy did not worry me in the least. I welcomed them. I was never tired of talking of babies and I gathered about me those people who had had them so that they could talk of their experiences.

But how long the waiting seemed I I began to grow so weary of it; sometimes I was almost sick with longing for my child.

My baby was due in December and the summer seemed endless; and then a strange event occurred which for a short while made me less aware even of my coming baby.

It was August and I was in the crowded salon with my husband and brothers-and sisters-in-law, and I was beginning to feel a little tired. I knew I only had to catch Louis’s eye and he would dismiss the assembly. He was always so ] solicitous of my health and terrified, as

I was, that the baby . might be jeopardised. Then it happened. He was some little distance from us and neither my husband nor his brothers knew him. But I did. I took one look at that unusual and most handsome face, at the contrast of fair hair and dark eyes, and I was trans ported back to an Opera ball at which as Dauphine I had danced disguised . until I had revealed myself.

“Ah,” I cried, impulsively.

“Here is an old acquaintance ” Madame. ” He was standing before me, bowing low over my hand. I felt his lips against my fingers and I was happy.

“Comte de Fersen,” I said thoughtlessly.

He was delighted that I should remember him. Others watching me were they not always watching me? were surprised and naturally would not let the matter pass.

He had changed a little since we had last met; but then so had I. We had both become more mature. I asked him to tell me what had happened to him after the Opera ball.

He had been to England, he said, and after that to Northern France and Holland, before returning to the Chateau of Lofstad, which was his home in Sweden.

“And you were happy to be home.”

He smiled; he had the most charming smile I had ever seen.

“The Court of Sweden seemed a little dull after that of France.”

I was pleased, loving compliments.

“But it is your home,” I reminded him.

“I had been so long away … Brussels … Berlin, Rome, London, Paris in particular Paris.”

“I am pleased that our capital pleased you He looked steadily at me and said: ” There is something here that . enchants me. “

I was excited. I knew what he meant.

“You have a family, though … a large family?”

“A younger brother and three sisters, but they were always away from home. They all held posts at Court.”

“Naturally. But I know what it means to live in a large family and leave it….”

I dared not talk to him much longer for we were being noticed. He was courtier enough to realise this.

I said conspiratorially: “We will talk together again.” Being thus dismissed he bowed and I turned to my sister-in-law who was standing beside me. Marie Josephe would be beside me at such a time. I was sure she had listened to every word.

What strange days they were. I don’t think I had ever been so happy in the whole of my life. I would wake in the night and put my hands on my body to feel the child; and I would picture my little boy lying in my arms or I would be teaching him to walk and say “Maman.”

Then I would think of Comte Axel de Fersen, with his strangely beautiful face and his ardent eyes. Of course I was happy. I had never carried a child before; I had never before known a man with whom I felt so completely at peace. I had strange thoughts—perhaps women do during pregnancy. I wished that I lived in a little house with a husband like Axel de Fersen and babies . lots of them. I believed that if I could do that, I should ask for nothing else. What were gambling, dancing, practical jokes, glorious silks and brocades, fantastic head-dresses, diamonds . a crown . what would all these things amount to when compared with that simple life of complete contentment?