Dorine was just three months old when madame de Montmorency
brought her to me in her muff; her throat was adorned with a rich
gold collar, bearing the arms of the du Barrys, and clasped with a
large sapphire surrounded with diamonds. The moment she saw me
Dorine leaped upon my lap with the most endearing familiarity,
and from that period has never quitted me. My train of courtiers
hastened to become those of the new favourite likewise; and
pastrycooks and confectioners racked their brains to procure
tempting morsels for the gentle Dorine. She sipped her coffee
daily from a golden saucer, and Zamor (between whom and Dorine
a mutual dislike existed) was appointed her cupbearer. The
wonderful instinct of the highly gifted animal soon taught her,
that although she had free permission to bark at all the rest of
the world, there was one person in it to whom it behoved her to
show herself in her most gracious and smiling moods; who this
person was I leave it to your sagacity to divine. She, however,
indemnified herself for this extra complaisance by barking and
biting at all who approached; and the handsomest, best turned
leg in the court was not secure from the sharp teeth of mademoiselle
Dorine. Nevertheless, all vied in praising and fondling her, and
I was enchanted with the general admiration she excited, as well
as the attention she received. One day that I was exultingly
relating to the duc d'Aguillon the cares and praises lavished on
my dog, he replied, "The grand dauphin, son of Louis XIV, after
the death of his wife, Marie Christine of Bavaria, secretly espoused
mademoiselle Choin. The marechal d'Uxelles, who was not ignorant
of this marriage, professed himself the most devoted friend of
the lady; he visited her regularly morning and evening, and
even carried his desire to please her so far, as to send a servant