disgrace me,
and to bring about the failure of the sole object which had made me
desire it, we must only blame his villainy and the deplorable feebleness
of M. le Duc d'Orleans, which caused me many sad embarrassments, and did
so much harm, but which even did more harm to the state and to the prince
himself.

It is with this sad but only too true reflection that I finish the year
1721.

CHAPTER CXII

The Regent's daughter arrived in Spain at the commencement of the year
1722, and it was arranged that her marriage with the Prince of the
Asturias should be celebrated on the 30th of January at Lerma, where
their Catholic Majesties were then staying. It was some little distance
from my house. I was obliged therefore to start early in the morning in
order to arrive in time. On the way I paid a visit of ceremony to the
Princess, at Cogollos, ate a mouthful of something, and turned off to
Lerma.

As soon as I arrived there, I went to the Marquis of Grimaldo's
apartments. His chamber was at the end of a vast room, a piece of which
had been portioned off, in order to serve as a chapel. Once again I had
to meet the nuncio, and I feared lest he should remember what had passed
on a former occasion, and that I should give Dubois a handle for
complaint. I saw, therefore, but very imperfectly, the reception of the
Princess; to meet whom the King and Queen (who lodged below) and the
Prince precipitated themselves, so to speak, almost to the steps of the
coach. I quietly went up again to the chapel.

The prie-dieu of the King was placed in front of the altar, a short
distance from the steps, precisely as the King's prie-dieu is placed at
Versailles, but closer to the altar, and with a cushion on each side of
it. The chapel was void of courtiers. I placed myself to the right of
the King's cushion just beyond the edge of the carpet, and amused myself
there better than I had expected. Cardinal Borgia, pontifically clad,
was in the corner, his face turned towards me, learning his lesson
between two chaplains in surplices, who held a large book open in front
of him. The good prelate did not know how to read; he tried, however,
and read aloud, but inaccurately. The chaplains took him up, he grew
angry, scolded them, recommenced, was again corrected, again grew angry,
and to such an extent that he turned round upon them and shook them by
their surplices. I laughed as much as I could; for he perceived nothing,
so occu