me great good; and, if it has the same effect on your ladyship, I hope you are starved to death.  Since Paris has begun to fill in spite of Fontainbleau, I am much reconciled to it, and, have seen several people I like.  I am established in two or three societies, where I sup every night; though I have still resisted whist, and am more constant to my old flame loo during its absence than I doubt I have been to my other passion.  There is a young Comtesse d’Egmont, daughter of Marshal Richelieu, so pretty and pleasing, that, if I thought it would break any body’s heart in England, I would be in love with her.  Nay, Madam, I might be so within all rules here.  I am twenty years the right side of red-heels, which her father wears still, and he has still a wrinkle to come before he leaves them off.

The Dauphin is still alive, but kept so only by cordials.  The Queen and Dauphiness have no doubt of his recovery, having the Bishop of Glandeve’s word for it, who got a promise from a vision under its own hand and seal.  The Dauphin has certainly behaved with great courage and tranquillity, but is so touched with the tenderness and attention of his family, that he now expresses a wish to live.

If there is no talk in England of politics and parliaments, I can send your ladyship as much as you please from hence; or If you want English themselves, I can send you about fifty head; and I assure you, we shall still be well stocked.  There were three card-tables at Lady Berkeley’s.

(916) Now first collected.

Letter 286 To the Right Hon. Lady Hervey.  Paris, Jan. 2, 1766. (page 452)

When I came to Paris, Madam, I did not know that by New year’s—­ day I should find myself in Siberia; at least as cold.  There have not been two good days together since the middle of October; however, I do not complain, as I am both well and pleased, though I wish for a little of your sultry English weather, all French as I am.  I have entirely left off dinners, and the life I always liked, of lying late in bed, and sitting up late.  I am told of nothing but how contradictory this is to your ladyship’s orders; but as I shall have dull dinners and triste evenings enough when I return to England, all your kindness cannot persuade me to sacrifice my pleasures here, too.  Many of my opinions are fantastic; perhaps this is one, that nothing produces gout like doing any thing one dislikes.  I believe the gouts like a near relation, always visits one when one has some other plague.  Your ladyship’s dependence on the waters of Sunning-hill is, I hope, better founded; but in the mean time my system is full as pleasant.

Madame d’Aiguillon’s goodness to me does not abate, nor Madame Geoffrin’s.  I have seen but little of Madame d’Egmont, who seems very good, and is universally in esteem.  She is now in great affliction, having lost suddenly Monsieur Pignatelli, the minister at Parma, whom she bred up, and whom she and her family had generously destined for her grand-daughter, an immense heiress.  It was very delicate and touching what Madame d’Egmont said to her daughter-in-law on this occasion:—­“Vous voyez, ma ch`ere, combien j’aime mes enfans d’adoption!” This daughter-in-law is delightfully pretty, and civil, and gay, and conversable, though not a regular beauty like Madame de Monaco.