Mademoiselle Bourienne flushed, and gave the princess a frightened look.
You are coming with us, mademoiselle, he said to Traci.
By bringing about the marriage of his pupil with Mademoiselle de Blois, a natural but legitimated daughter of the king; and for this service he was rewarded with the gift of the abbey of St Just in Picardy.
It was continued by Mademoiselle de Montpensier in the latter half of the 17th century, and restored by Louis Philippe who, in 1843 and 1845, received Queen Victoria within its walls.
Of Lorraine, duke of Guise, sold it to "Mademoiselle," Anne Marie Louise d'Orleans, duchesse de Montpensier, who made it over (1682) to the duke of Maine, bastard son of Louis XIV., as part of the price of the release of her lover Lauzun.
In the same year - apparently about June - he saw for the first time, and forthwith loved, the beautiful, intelligent and accomplished Mademoiselle Susan Curchod, daughter of the pasteur of Crassier.
Meanwhile, on the 31st of May 1792 he married Mademoiselle Lemonnier, daughter of the astronomer of that name, a young and beautiful girl, whose devotion ignored disparity of years, and formed the one tie with life which Lagrange found it hard to break.
The piquant comments of his platonic friend, Mademoiselle de Hautefort, upon Richelieu were relished by the king until he was informed of others said to have been made by her upon himself.
Then it was easy to supplant her with another favourite, Mademoiselle de Lafayette.
Comte was as inconsolable after Madame de Vaux's death as D'Alembert after the death of Mademoiselle L'Espinasse.
Mademoiselle de la Valliere held the position from 1662 to 1670; she was then ousted by Madame de Montespan, who had fiercely intrigued for it, and whose proud and ambitious temper offered a great contrast to her rival.
At this period of his life Mademoiselle de Noailles persuaded him to paint a sacred subject, with Christ as the hero.
Yet Mademoiselle de la Fayette and Madame d'Hautefort and others are said to have been his mistresses.
This was a romantic adventure, for Francis had clandestinely married Mademoiselle de Piennes.
By his marriage with Mademoiselle Choquet, who survived him little more than a month, he left a son and daughter.
Released when Mazarin went into exile, he wished to marry Mademoiselle de Chevreuse (1627-1652), daughter of the famous confidante of Anne of Austria, but was prevented by his brother, who was now supreme in the state.
See Antonio Francesco Frisi, Eloge historique de Mademoiselle Agnesi, translated by Boulard (Paris, 1807); Milesi-Mojon, Vita di M.
In 1561 it was granted to Louis, duke of BourbonMontpensier, by whose descendants it was held till, in 1682, "Mademoiselle," the duchess of Montpensier, gave it to Louis XIV.'s bastard, the duke of Maine, as part of the price for the release of her lover Lauzun.
See also Mademoiselle d'Aumale's Souvenirs sur Madame de Maintenon, published by the Comte d'Haussonville and G.
His wife had died some time previously, and he now married Mademoiselle Asaky, the daughter of a Roumanian poet.
In 1 777, on Voltaire's advice, Villette married Mademoiselle de Varicourt, but the marriage was unhappy, and his wife was subsequently adopted by Voltaire's niece, Madame Denis.
He is said to have collaborated with the elder Dumas in Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle, and a comedy of his, L'Ecole du monde, was produced at the Theatre Francais in 1840.
By his marriage with Mademoiselle de Cussy he left three daughters, one of whom became the wife of J.
Chalais was beheaded at Nantes in 1626 for having upheld Gaston of Orleans in his refusal to wed Mademoiselle de Montpensier, and Marshal dOrnano died at Vincennes for having given him bad advice in this matter; while the duelist de Boutteville was put to the torture for having braved the edict against duels.
Saved, however, bythe Grande Mademoiselle, daughter of Gaston of Orleans, he lost Pari5 by the disaster of the Hotel de Ville July 4, 1652), where he had installed an insurrectionary government.
Neither the witty and lucid form in which the philosophers clothed their ideas in their satires, romances, stage-plays and treatises, nor the salons of Madame du Deffand, Madame Geoffrin and Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, could possibly have been sufficiently far-reaching or active centres of political propaganda.
It was perhaps the greatest misfortune of her life that "la grande mademoiselle" was encouraged to look forward to the throne of France as the result of a marriage with Louis XIV., who was, however, eleven years her junior.
On the 2nd of July 1652, the day of the battle of the Faubourg Saint Antoine, between the Frondeurs under Conde and the royal troops under Turenne, Mademoiselle saved Conde and his beaten troops by giving orders for the gates under her control to be opened and for the cannon of the Bastille to fire on the royalists.
It was some years before the affair came to a crisis, but at last, in 1670, Mademoiselle solemnly demanded the king's permission to marry Lauzun.
Louis, who liked Lauzun, and who had been educated by Mazarin in the idea that Mademoiselle ought not to be allowed to carry her vast estates and royal blood to anyone who was himself of the bloodroyal, or even to any foreign prince, gave his consent, but it was not immediately acted on, as the other members of the royal family prevailed with Louis to rescind his permission.
Not long afterwards Lauzun, for another cause, was imprisoned in Pignerol, and it was years before Mademoiselle was able to buy his release from the king by settling no small portion of her estates on Louis's bastards.
The elderly lovers (for in 1681, when Lauzun was released, he was nearly fifty, and Mademoiselle was fifty-four) were then secretly married, if indeed they had not gone through the ceremony ten years previously.
See the series of studies on La Grande Mademoiselle, by "Arvede Barine" (1902, 1905).
Give my respects to monsieur your father and my compliments to Mademoiselle Bourienne.
I have written to my poor mother, said the smiling Mademoiselle Bourienne rapidly, in her pleasant mellow tones and with guttural r's.
Before they reached the room from which the sounds of the clavichord came, the pretty, fair haired Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Bourienne, rushed out apparently beside herself with delight.
You are Mademoiselle Bourienne, said the little princess, kissing her.
Mademoiselle Bourienne stood near them pressing her hand to her heart, with a beatific smile and obviously equally ready to cry or to laugh.
Mademoiselle Bourienne also began to cry.
"I knew the princess at once," put in Mademoiselle Bourienne.
At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered the dining room.
Mademoiselle Bourienne, here's another admirer of that powder-monkey emperor of yours, he exclaimed in excellent French.
There is only Mademoiselle Bourienne....
"I don't like your Mademoiselle Bourienne at all," said Prince Andrew.
On the way to his sister's room, in the passage which connected one wing with the other, Prince Andrew met Mademoiselle Bourienne smiling sweetly.
The members of the household were all gathered in the reception hall: Michael Ivanovich, Mademoiselle Bourienne, Princess Mary, and the little princess.
The little princess lay in the armchair, Mademoiselle Bourienne chafing her temples.
What she found hardest to bear was to know that on such occasions she ought to behave like Mademoiselle Bourienne, but could not.
"She is not very well," answered Mademoiselle Bourienne with a bright smile, "so she won't come down.
When the little princess had grown accustomed to life at Bald Hills, she took a special fancy to Mademoiselle Bourienne, spent whole days with her, asked her to sleep in her room, and often talked with her about the old prince and criticized him.
"So we are to have visitors, mon prince?" remarked Mademoiselle Bourienne, unfolding her white napkin with her rosy fingers.
The little princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne had already received from Masha, the lady's maid, the necessary report of how handsome the minister's son was, with his rosy cheeks and dark eyebrows, and with what difficulty the father had dragged his legs upstairs while the son had followed him like an eagle, three steps at a time.
Having received this information, the little princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne, whose chattering voices had reached her from the corridor, went into Princess Mary's room.
She flushed, her beautiful eyes grew dim, red blotches came on her face, and it took on the unattractive martyrlike expression it so often wore, as she submitted herself to Mademoiselle Bourienne and Lise.
It was not the dress, but the face and whole figure of Princess Mary that was not pretty, but neither Mademoiselle Bourienne nor the little princess felt this; they still thought that if a blue ribbon were placed in the hair, the hair combed up, and the blue scarf arranged lower on the best maroon dress, and so on, all would be well.
Katie," she said to the maid, "bring the princess her gray dress, and you'll see, Mademoiselle Bourienne, how I shall arrange it," she added, smiling with a foretaste of artistic pleasure.
"Come, dear princess," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "just one more little effort."
The three voices, hers, Mademoiselle Bourienne's, and Katie's, who was laughing at something, mingled in a merry sound, like the chirping of birds.
Mademoiselle Bourienne and the little princess had to own to themselves that Princess Mary in this guise looked very plain, worse than usual, but it was too late.
When Princess Mary came down, Prince Vasili and his son were already in the drawing room, talking to the little princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne.
When she entered with her heavy step, treading on her heels, the gentlemen and Mademoiselle Bourienne rose and the little princess, indicating her to the gentlemen, said: "Voila Marie!"
And she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne, with her ribbon and pretty face, and her unusually animated look which was fixed on him, but him she could not see, she only saw something large, brilliant, and handsome moving toward her as she entered the room.
Mademoiselle Bourienne also shared them and even Princess Mary felt herself pleasantly made to share in these merry reminiscences.
When Paris was mentioned, Mademoiselle Bourienne for her part seized the opportunity of joining in the general current of recollections.
He noticed the change in the little princess' dress, Mademoiselle Bourienne's ribbon, Princess Mary's unbecoming coiffure, Mademoiselle Bourienne's and Anatole's smiles, and the loneliness of his daughter amid the general conversation.
Mademoiselle Bourienne, also roused to great excitement by Anatole's arrival, thought in another way.
Mademoiselle Bourienne knew a story, heard from her aunt but finished in her own way, which she liked to repeat to herself.
Mademoiselle Bourienne was often touched to tears as in imagination she told this story to him, her seducer.
So her future shaped itself in Mademoiselle Bourienne's head at the very time she was talking to Anatole about Paris.
Anatole, laughing and in high spirits, came and leaned on his elbows, facing her and beside Mademoiselle Bourienne.
But Anatole's expression, though his eyes were fixed on her, referred not to her but to the movements of Mademoiselle Bourienne's little foot, which he was then touching with his own under the clavichord.
Turning from Princess Mary he went up and kissed Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand.
"Is it possible that Amelie" (Mademoiselle Bourienne) "thinks I could be jealous of her, and not value her pure affection and devotion to me?"
Mademoiselle Bourienne walked up and down the conservatory for a long time that evening, vainly expecting someone, now smiling at someone, now working herself up to tears with the imaginary words of her pauvre mere rebuking her for her fall.
The old prince knew that if he told his daughter she was making a mistake and that Anatole meant to flirt with Mademoiselle Bourienne, Princess Mary's self-esteem would be wounded and his point (not to be parted from her) would be gained, so pacifying himself with this thought, he called Tikhon and began to undress.
When Princess Mary went to her father's room at the usual hour, Mademoiselle Bourienne and Anatole met in the conservatory.
He will take you with your dowry and take Mademoiselle Bourienne into the bargain.
But what her father had said about Mademoiselle Bourienne was dreadful.
She was going straight on through the conservatory, neither seeing nor hearing anything, when suddenly the well-known whispering of Mademoiselle Bourienne aroused her.
At last Mademoiselle Bourienne gave a scream and ran away.
When Tikhon came to her Princess Mary was sitting on the sofa in her room, holding the weeping Mademoiselle Bourienne in her arms and gently stroking her hair.
The princess' beautiful eyes with all their former calm radiance were looking with tender affection and pity at Mademoiselle Bourienne's pretty face.
"No, Princess, I have lost your affection forever!" said Mademoiselle Bourienne.
Mademoiselle Bourienne, too, seemed passionately fond of the boy, and Princess Mary often deprived herself to give her friend the pleasure of dandling the little angel--as she called her nephew--and playing with him.
"Whatever trouble may come," Prince Andrew continued, "I beg you, Mademoiselle Sophie, whatever may happen, to turn to him alone for advice and help!
Or, turning to Mademoiselle Bourienne, he would ask her in Princess Mary's presence how she liked our village priests and icons and would joke about them.
My dear friend, Mademoiselle Bourienne, sends you kisses.
A few minutes later Mademoiselle Bourienne came into Princess Mary's room smiling and making cheerful remarks in her agreeable voice.
Next day the prince did not say a word to his daughter, but she noticed that at dinner he gave orders that Mademoiselle Bourienne should be served first.
Princess Mary asked Mademoiselle Bourienne's pardon, and also her father's pardon for herself and for Philip the footman, who had begged for her intervention.
Prince Nicholas had always ridiculed medicine, but latterly on Mademoiselle Bourienne's advice had allowed this doctor to visit him and had grown accustomed to him.
Metivier, shrugging his shoulders, went up to Mademoiselle Bourienne who at the sound of shouting had run in from an adjoining room.
Then he slammed the door, sent for Mademoiselle Bourienne, and subsided into his study.
At present he is hesitating whom to lay siege to-- you or Mademoiselle Julie Karagina.
He is very melancholy with Mademoiselle Karagina, said Pierre.
The first person who came to meet the visitors was Mademoiselle Bourienne.
Mademoiselle Bourienne alone smiled agreeably.
Mademoiselle Bourienne was the first to recover herself after this apparition and began speaking about the prince's indisposition.
As Shinshin had remarked, from the time of his arrival Anatole had turned the heads of the Moscow ladies, especially by the fact that he slighted them and plainly preferred the gypsy girls and French actresses--with the chief of whom, Mademoiselle George, he was said to be on intimate relations.
Mademoiselle George was standing in a corner of the drawing room surrounded by young men.
The count decided not to sit down to cards or let his girls out of his sight and to get away as soon as Mademoiselle George's performance was over.
Soon after their arrival Mademoiselle George went out of the room to change her costume.
Mademoiselle George, with her bare, fat, dimpled arms, and a red shawl draped over one shoulder, came into the space left vacant for her, and assumed an unnatural pose.
After giving several recitations, Mademoiselle George left, and Countess Bezukhova asked her visitors into the ballroom.
Old Prince Bolkonski heard all the rumors current in the town from Mademoiselle Bourienne and had read the note to Princess Mary in which Natasha had broken off her engagement.
As soon as he reached Moscow, Prince Andrew had received from his father Natasha's note to Princess Mary breaking off her engagement (Mademoiselle Bourienne had purloined it from Princess Mary and given it to the old prince), and he heard from him the story of Natasha's elopement, with additions.
To the one camp belonged the old prince, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and the architect; to the other Princess Mary, Dessalles, little Nicholas, and all the old nurses and maids.
In the evening, when Prince Andrew went to him and, trying to rouse him, began to tell him of the young Count Kamensky's campaign, the old prince began unexpectedly to talk about Princess Mary, blaming her for her superstitions and her dislike of Mademoiselle Bourienne, who, he said, was the only person really attached to him.
That day he did not see his father, who did not leave his room and admitted no one but Mademoiselle Bourienne and Tikhon, but asked several times whether his son had gone.
She understood that when speaking of "trash" he referred not only to Mademoiselle Bourienne, the cause of her misery, but also to the man who had ruined his own happiness.
Princess Mary noticed to her surprise that during this illness the old prince not only excluded her from his room, but did not admit Mademoiselle Bourienne either.
At the end of the week the prince reappeared and resumed his former way of life, devoting himself with special activity to building operations and the arrangement of the gardens and completely breaking off his relations with Mademoiselle Bourienne.
One day he would order his camp bed to be set up in the glass gallery, another day he remained on the couch or on the lounge chair in the drawing room and dozed there without undressing, while--instead of Mademoiselle Bourienne--a serf boy read to him.
"Oh, very interesting!" said Mademoiselle Bourienne.
"Go and get it for me," said the old prince to Mademoiselle Bourienne.
Mademoiselle Bourienne jumped up eagerly.
While he was away Princess Mary, Dessalles, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and even little Nicholas exchanged looks in silence.
It was Mademoiselle Bourienne in a black dress and weepers.
But she remembered too how he had changed of late toward Mademoiselle Bourienne and could not bear to see her, thereby showing how unjust were the reproaches Princess Mary had mentally addressed to her.
Mademoiselle Bourienne at once began crying again and kissed that hand, speaking of the princess' sorrow and making herself a partner in it.
"Your position is doubly terrible, dear princess," said Mademoiselle Bourienne after a pause.
"You know, chere Marie," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "that we are in danger--are surrounded by the French.
He hopes we should be in time to get away tomorrow, but I think it would now be better to stay here, said Mademoiselle Bourienne.
Mademoiselle Bourienne took from her reticule a proclamation (not printed on ordinary Russian paper) of General Rameau's, telling people not to leave their homes and that the French authorities would afford them proper protection.
"Dunyasha, send Alpatych, or Dronushka, or somebody to me!" she said, "and tell Mademoiselle Bourienne not to come to me," she added, hearing Mademoiselle Bourienne's voice.
Mademoiselle Bourienne would do the honors of Bogucharovo for him.
Dunyasha, the nurse, and the other maids could not say in how far Mademoiselle Bourienne's statement was correct.
Mademoiselle Bourienne, who was in the drawing room, looked at Princess Mary in bewildered surprise.
And above all, what tact and grace! thought Mademoiselle Bourienne.
With her traveled Mademoiselle Bourienne, little Nicholas and his tutor, her old nurse, three maids, Tikhon, and a young footman and courier her aunt had sent to accompany her.
During this difficult journey Mademoiselle Bourienne, Dessalles, and Princess Mary's servants were astonished at her energy and firmness of spirit.
The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room, where Sonya was talking to Mademoiselle Bourienne.
With Mademoiselle Bourienne's help the princess had maintained the conversation very well, but at the very last moment, just when he rose, she was so tired of talking of what did not interest her, and her mind was so full of the question why she alone was granted so little happiness in life, that in a fit of absent-mindedness she sat still, her luminous eyes gazing fixedly before her, not noticing that he had risen.
Nicholas glanced at her and, wishing to appear not to notice her abstraction, made some remark to Mademoiselle Bourienne and then again looked at the princess.
"Wait a moment, I'll fetch it," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, and she left the room.
His later years were saddened by circumstances connected with a romantic attachment he had formed for Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, whose acquaintance he made at the house of Madame du Deffand, a noted resort of literary men and savants.