more would she deign to look at herself in her mirror, but refused the sight of her lovely face to the pellucid crystal that was so fain to see the same. Her act though not her words were like those of an ancient dame, which breaking her mirror and dedicating the fragments to Venus, spake these words to the Goddess:
Dico tibi Veneri speculum, quai cernere talem
Qualis sum nolo, qualis eram nequeo.
(To thee, Venus, I do dedicate my mirror, for such as I am now, I care not to see myself, and such as I was, I cannot more.)
Not that Madame de Randam did scorn her mirror for this reason, for indeed she was very beautiful, but by reason of a vow she had made to her husband's shade, who was one of the best and noblest gentlemen of all France. For his sake she did altogether leave the world and its vanities, dressing her always very soberly. She wore a veil habitually, never showing her hair; yet spite of careless head-dress and her neglect of appearances, her great beauty was none the less manifest. The late M. de Guise, late deceased, was used always to call her naught but the nun; for she was attired and put on like a religious. This he would say by way of jest and merriment with her; for he did admire and honour her greatly, seeing how well affectioned and attached she was to his service and all his house.
Madame de Carnavalet, twice a widow, did refuse to wed for the third time with M. d'Espernon, then known as M. de la Valette the younger, and at the commencement of his
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