be necessarily the subject of a multitude of commentaries, journals, and memoirs.  All these confidential writings will speak of me to the generations to be; some will paint me as one paints an object whom one loves; others, as the object one detests.  The latter, to render me more odious, will probably revile my character, and, perhaps, represent me as a cowardly and despairing mistress, who has descended even to supplications!!  It is my, part, therefore, to retrace with a firm and vigorous hand this important epoch of my life, where my destiny, at once kind and cruel, reduced me to treat the greatest of all Kings both as my equal and as an inconstant friend, as a treacherous enemy, and as my inferior or subject.  He had, at first, the intention of putting me to death,—­of that I am persuaded,—­but soon his natural gentleness got the better of his pride.  He grasped the wounds in my heart from the deplorable commotion of my face.  If his former friend was guilty in her speech, he was far more guilty by his actions.  Like an equitable judge he pardoned neither of us; he did not forgive himself and he dared not condemn me.

Since this sad time of desertion and sorrow, into which the new state of things had brought me, mm. de Mortemart, de Nevers, and de Vivonne had been glad to avoid me.  They found my humour altered, and I admit that a woman who sulks, scolds, or complains is not very attractive company.

One day the poor Marechal de Vivonne came to see me; he opened my shutters to call my attention to the beauty of the sky, and, my health seeming to him a trifle poor, he suggested to me to embark at once in his carriage and to go and dine at Clagny.  I had no will left that day, so I accompanied my brother.

Being come to Clagny, the Marshal, having shut himself up with me in his closet, said to me the words which follow: 

“You know, my, sister, how all along you have been dear to me; the grief which is wearing you out does me almost as much harm as you.  To-day I wish to hurt you for your own good; and get you away from this locality in spite of yourself.  Kings are not to be opposed as we oppose our equals; our King, whom you know by heart, has never suffered contradiction.  He has had you asked, two or three times already, to leave his palace and to go and live on your estates.  Why do you delay to satisfy him, and to withdraw from so many eyes which watch you with pity?”

“The King, I am very sure, would like to see me away,” I replied to the Marshal, “but he has never formally expressed himself, and it is untrue that any such wish has been intimated or insinuated to me.”

“What! you did not receive two letters last year, which invited you to make up your mind and retire!”

“I received two anonymous letters; nothing is more true.  Could those two letters have been sent to me by the King himself?”

“The Marquis de Chamarante wrote them to you, but beneath the eyes, and at the dictation, of his Majesty.”