Our bride-elect is putting, as we say here, as good a face as she can upon a bad bargain; although her language is gay her eyes are swollen, and it is suspected that she has been weeping all night.  The Grand Prior, who is also General of the Galleys, will escort his sister into Italy.  The Grand Duchess of Tuscany says that she will not see Mademoiselle de Valois nor speak to her, knowing very well what Italy is, and believing that Mademoiselle de Valois will not be able to reconcile herself to it.  She is afraid that if her niece should ever return to France they will say, “There is the second edition of the Grand Duchess;” and that for every folly she may commit towards her father-in-law and husband they will add, “Such are the instructions which her aunt, the Grand Duchess, has given her.”  For this reason she said she would not go to see her.

The present has come from Modena; it does not consist of many pieces; there is a large jewel for the bride, with some very fine diamonds, in the midst of which is the portrait of the Prince of Modena, but it is badly executed.  This present is to be given on the day of the marriage and at the signature of the contract in the King’s presence; this ceremony will take place on the 11th (of February, 1720).  The nuptial benediction will be pronounced on Monday, and on Thursday she will set off.  I never in my life saw a bride more sorrowful; for the last three days she has neither eaten nor drunk, and her eyes are filled with tears.

I have been the prophetess of evil, but I have prophesied too truly.  When our Princess of Modena told me that she wished to go to Chelles to bid her sister farewell, I told her that the measles had been in the convent a short time before, that the Abbess herself had been attacked by this disease, which was contagious.  She replied that she would seek it.  I said such things are more easily found than anything good; you run a risk of your life, and I recommend you to take care.  Notwithstanding my advice, she went on Sunday morning to Chelles, and passed the whole of the day with her sister.  Soon afterwards she found herself unwell, and was laid up with the measles.  Her consolation is that this illness retards her journey.

On the 12th of March (1720) my son brought his daughter to bid me farewell.  She could not articulate a word.  She took my hands, kissed and pressed them, and then clasped her own.  My son was much affected when he brought her.  They thought at first of marrying her to the Prince of Piedmont.  Her father had given her some reason to hope for this union, but he afterwards retracted.

[According to Duclos it was Madame herself who prevented this marriage by writing to the Queen of Sicily that she was too much her friend to make her so worthless a present as Mademoiselle de Valois.  Duclos adds that the Regent only laughed at this German blunder of his mother’s.]

She would have preferred marrying the Duke or the