THREE:THE year 1788 was the last of the old rgime. Mme. Le Brun was now thirty-two and at the height of her fame and prosperity. She had more commissions than she could execute, more engagements than she could keep, more invitations than she could accept, but her mind was full of gloomy presentiments. She passed the summer as usual between Paris and the country houses where she stayed.
THREE:Ah! cried he. I have just met the Emperor as I came to you. I had only time to rush under a portico and am dreadfully afraid he recognized me.
THREE:She sent the Countess Woronsoff to her fathers estates in the country, dismissed Poniatowski from St. Petersburg, and tried to reconcile the ill-matched couple; but in vain. She died soon afterwards, and Peter III., a German at heart, proceeded on his accession to make himself hated in Russia by his infatuation for everything Prussian; Prussia being the nation of all others disliked by his subjects. He discarded the French and Austrian alliance, attached himself to Frederic, King of Prussia, and besides all the unpopular changes he made in his own army, accepted the rank of an officer in that of Prussia, wore the Prussian uniform, and declared that he preferred the title of a Prussian Major-General to any other he possessed!
THREE:Aimez vous toujours les hommes?
THREE:Apropos, exclaimed Mme. de Fontenay; have not you begun her portrait?
THREE:Lhistoire dun roi de vingt ans,
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