Her letters had the expression, and almost the elegance of Madam de Savigne's; some of them might have been taken for hers.

My principal employ, which was by no means displeasing to me, was to write from her dictating; a cancer in the breast, from which she suffered extremely, not permitting her to write herself.
Madam de Vercellis not only possessed a good understanding, but a strong and elevated soul.

I was with her during her last illness, and saw her suffer and die, without showing an instant of weakness, or the least effort of constraint; still retaining her feminine manners, without entertaining an idea that such fortitude gave her any claim to philosophy; a word which was not yet in fashion, nor comprehended by her in the sense it is held at present.

This strength of disposition sometimes extended almost to apathy, ever appearing to feel as little for others as herself; and when she relieved the unfortunate, it was rather for the sake of acting right, than from a principle of real commiseration.

I have frequently experienced this insensibility, in some measure, during the three months I remained with her.