nd her letter. I
took them, and she dictated to me the rest of the epistle, that I at once
added to what she had written.

I was infinitely amazed at the conciseness and appropriateness of the
expressions she readily found, in the midst of her violent emotion, her
sobs, and her tears. She finished by saying that she was going to
Montmartre to mourn the misfortunes of her brother, and pray God for his
prosperity. I shall regret all my life I did not transcribe this letter.
All its expressions were so worthy, so fitting, so measured, everything
being according to truth and duty; and the letter, in fact, being so
perfectly well written, that although I remember it roughly, I dare not
give it, for fear of spoiling it. What a pity that a mind capable of
such self-possession, at such a moment, should have become valueless from
its leaning towards illegitimacy.

After this I had another interview with Madame, and a long talk with my
sure and trusty friend Madame Sforze. Then I set out for Paris, went
straight to the Palais Royal, and found M. le Duc d'Orleans with Madame
la Duchesse de Berry. He was delighted when he heard what Madame had
said respecting him; but he was not particularly pleased when he found
that Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans (who after telling me she would go to
Montmartre, had changed her mind), was coming to the Palais Royal.

I learned afterwards that she came about half an hour after I left. At
first she was all humility and sorrow, hoping to soften the Regent by
this conduct. Then she passed to tears, sobs, cries, reproaches,
expecting to make him by these means undo what he had done, and reinstate
M. du Maine in the position he had lost. But all her efforts proving
vain, she adopted another course: her sorrow turned to rage,--her tears
to looks of anger. Still in vain. She could gain nothing; vex and annoy
M. le Duc d'Orleans as she might by her conduct. At last, finding there
was no remedy to be had, she was obliged to endure her sorrow as best she
might.

As for me, I was erased entirely from her books. She looked upon me as
the chief cause of what had occurred, and would not see me. I remained
ever afterwards at variance with her. I had nothing to reproach myself
with, however, so that her enmity did not very deeply penetrate me.

CHAPTER XCV

It was scarcely to be expected, perhaps, that M. du Maine would remain
altogether quiet under the disgrace which had been heaped upon