“Bah, madame! let’s talk like sensible, straightforward people,” quoth the General.  “The reverend Pere de la Chaise—­one of the Jesuit oracles—­gives the King absolution every year, and authorises him to receive the Holy Sacrament at Easter.  If the King’s confessor—­thorough priest as he is—­pardons his intimacy with madame, here, how comes it that the other cleric won’t tolerate madame’s intimacy with the King?  On a point of such importance as this, the two confessors ought really to come to some agreement, or else, as the Jesuits have such a tremendous reputation, the Marquise is entitled to side with them.”

Hemmed in thus, Madame de Maintenon remarked “that the morals of Jesuits and lax casuists had never been hers,” and she advised me to choose a confessor far removed from the Court and its intrigues.

The next day she mentioned a certain village priest to me, uninfluenced by anybody, and whose primitive simplicity caused him to be looked upon as a saint.

I submitted, and ingenuously went to confess myself to this wonderful man; his great goodness did not prevent him from rallying me about the elegance of my costume, and the perfume of my gloves, and my hair.  He insisted upon knowing my name, and on learning it, flew into a passion.  I suppress the details of his disagreeable propositions.  Seated sideways in his confessional, he stamped on the floor, abused me, and spoke disrespectfully of the King.  I could not stand such scandalous behaviour for long; and, wearing my veil down, I got into my coach, being thoroughly determined that I would take a good long holiday.  M. de Vivonne soundly rated me for such cowardice, as he called it, while Madame de Maintenon offered me her curate-in-chief, or else the Abbe Gobelin.

But, for the time being, I determined to keep to my plan of not going to confession, strengthened in such resolve by my brother Vivonne’s good sense, and the attitude of the King’s Jesuit confessor, who had a great reputation and knew what he was about.

CHAPTER XLIII.

The Comte de Guiche.—­His Violent Passion for Madame.—­His Despair.—­He Flees to La Trappe.—­And Comes Out Again.—­A Man’s Heart.—­Cured of His Passion, He Takes a Wife.

The Comte de Guiche, son of the Marechal de Grammont, was undoubtedly one of the handsomest men in France.

The grandeur and wealth of his family had, at an early age, inspired him with courage and self-conceit, so that in his blind, frivolous presumption, the only person, as he thought, who exceeded his own fascination was possibly the King, but nobody else.

Perceiving the wonderful charm of Monsieur’s first wife, he conceived so violent a passion for her that no counsel nor restraint could prevent him from going to the most extravagant lengths in obedience to this rash, this boundless passion.