He loved her always as much as he was loved by her, and in virtue of the permission formally given by the Pope, he went every week to pass an hour or two with her in the parlour.  He regularly took there his singing and flute lessons; these were two amiable talents in which he excelled.

About his twelfth year he was taken with the measles, and passed through them fairly well.  The smallpox came afterwards, but respected his charming brown face.  A severe shower of rain, which caught him in some forest, made him take rheumatism; the waters of Vichy cured him; he returned beaming with health and grace.

The King loved him tenderly, and everybody at Court shared this predilection of the monarch.  M. de Vermandois, of a stature less than his father, was none the less one of the handsomest cavaliers at the Court.  To all the graces of his amiable mother he joined an ease of manner, a mixture of nobility and modesty, which made him noticeable in the midst of the most handsome and well made.  I loved him with a mother’s fondness, and, from all his ingenuous and gallant caresses, it was easy to see that he made me a sincere return.

This poor Comte de Vermandois, about a year before the death of the Queen, had a great and famous dispute with Monsieur le Dauphin, a jealous prince, which brought him his first troubles, and deprived him suddenly of the protecting favour of the Infanta-queen.

At a ball, at the Duchesse de Villeroi’s, all the Princes of the Blood appeared.  Monseigneur, who from childhood had had a fancy for Mademoiselle de Blois, his legitimised sister, loved her far more definitely since her marriage with M. le Prince de Conti.  Monseigneur is lacking in tact.  At this ball he thought he could parade his sentiments, which were visibly unpleasant, both to the young husband and to the Princess herself.  He danced, nevertheless, for some minutes with her; but, suddenly, she feigned to be seized with a sharp pain in the spleen, and was conducted to a sofa.  The young Comte de Vermandois came and sat there near her.  They were both exhibiting signs of gaiety; their chatter amused them, and they were seen to laugh with great freedom.  Although Monsieur le Dauphin was assuredly not in their thoughts, he thought they were making merry at his expense.  He came and sat at the right of the Princess and said to her: 

“Your brother is very ill-bred!”

“Do you think so?” the Princess answered immediately.  “My brother is the most amiable boy in the world.  He is laughing at my talking to myself.  He assures me that my pain is in my knee instead of being in the spleen, and that is what we were amusing ourselves at, quite innocently.”

“Your brother thinks himself my equal,” added the Prince; “in which he certainly makes a mistake.  All his diamonds prove nothing; I shall have, when I like, those of the crown.”

“So much the worse, monsieur,” replied the Comte de Vermandois, quickly.  “Those diamonds should never change hands,—­at least, for a very long time.”