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rather somber for the King had a reputation for parsimony. He was a good king and did not want to tax his people to pay for his extravagances, which was a habit most kings indulged in; and because of this they called him mean. He hated war, therefore they called him unadventurous. France prospered under him more than it had under his predecessors, but the people did not love him because he was not the glittering figure they liked their kings to be. I often thought how difficult it is to please the people; whatever one was, whatever one did, there would always be the other side of the picture to bring complaints.
    Of course I saw him only from a distance, but I did realize how he doted on his beautiful young Queen. He often looked pale and fatigued; his eyes seemed to have grown more prominent, his neck more swollen. In the evenings at the revelries—which I was sometimes allowed to attend—he looked as though he needed nothing so much as sleep. But the Queen would be there dancing—often with François, laughing and coquetting. I thought it was not very kind; but I knew from thosemonologues at the dressing table how she yearned for her Charles, and that her one idea was to get to him. I could understand that need in her but it did occur to me that she planned these feasts and revels with the great idea of tiring her husband so that he would be too weary for anything but sleep in the big canopied bed decorated with the fleurs-de-lys… and perhaps to hasten his end.
    There were three women at Court who interested me. Perhaps it was because of their connection with François, who himself was the most interesting as well as the most attractive man at Court. These three were François's wife, Claude, his sister, Marguerite d'Alençon, and his mother, Louise of Savoy.
    Claude was good and kind. She was like her father in that she tired easily; she was delicate in health and walking exhausted her because of her limp.
    She took notice of me because I was so young and she thought that it was wrong for a child of my age to be sent away from her country to live with foreigners. I told her that I was very happy to be here and to serve the Queen.
    “Ah, the Queen,” she sighed. “What a beautiful and healthy lady she is!”
    There was no malice in her, but she must have hated to see the way in which her husband danced attendance on the Queen. I wondered what she felt like being married to such a man. She accepted her husband's infidelities as a matter of course. She had no doubt been brought up by the excellent Anne of Brittany to do her duty whatever it was, and as the daughter of the reigning King it was her duty to marry the heir presumptive to the throne—and this she had done.
    They were hardly ever together; he was usually beside some dazzling beauty. He treated her with courtesy. François's exquisite manners would not have allowed him to do anything else, but at the same time it must have been very hard for her.
    I liked to talk with her and really it was great condescension on her part to notice me. She made me read with her and insisted on correcting a slightly imperfect accent. She insisted that I learn to do very fine embroidery and
petit point
, which I quite enjoyed. She was very gentle and I could not help being fond of her.
    But she was not as interesting as François's sister. There was a woman who amazed me. She was very beautiful and extremely well educated. She was noted for her cleverness; she wrote verses and was interested in every new idea which was presented to her. I saw her often with her brother,their arms entwined. In fact, one would have thought
she
was his wife. They loved each other with a fierce passion. The Queen told me that if anyone said a word against François Marguerite would be ready to slay that person. “Of course,” she added, “no one ever does say a word against François…except the King, and even Marguerite could not slay him. The King is really worried about François. Not so