ope, Madame de Maintenon and Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne
persuaded the King to stay no longer, and accordingly returned with him
in his carriage to Marly. As he was going out and was showing some sign
of affection to M. de Chartres--both weeping very much--that young Prince
did not fail to take advantage of the opportunity. "Oh Sire!" he
exclaimed, embracing the King's thighs, "what will become of me? I lose
Monsieur, and I know that you do not like me." The King, surprised and
much touched, embraced him, and said all the tender things he could.

On arriving at Marly, the King went with the Duchesse de Bourgogne to
Madame de Maintenon. Three hours after came M. Fagon, who had been
ordered not to leave Monsieur until he was dead or better--which could
not be but by miracle. The King said, as soon as he saw him: "Well!
M. Fagon, my brother is dead?"--"Yes, Sire," said Fagon, "no remedy has
taken effect."

The King wept a good deal. He was pressed to dine with Madame de
Maintenon; but he would not do so, and had his dinner, as usual, with the
ladies. The tears often ran down his cheek, during the meal, which was
short. After this, he shut himself up in Madame de Maintenon's rooms
until seven o'clock, and then took a turn in his garden. Afterwards he
worked with Chamillart and Pontchartrain; and arranged all the funeral
ceremonies of Monsieur. He supped an hour before his customary time, and
went to bed soon afterwards.

At the departure from St. Cloud of the King, all the crowd assembled
there little by little withdrew, so that Monsieur dying, stretched upon a
couch in his cabinet, remained exposed to the scullions and the lower
officers of the household, the majority of whom, either by affection or
interest, were much afflicted. The chief officers and others who lost
posts and pensions filled the air with their cries; whilst all the women
who were at Saint Cloud, and who lost their consideration and their
amusement, ran here and there, crying, with dishevelled hair, like
Bacchantes. The Duchesse de la Ferme, who had basely married her
daughter to one of Monsieur's minions, named La Carte, came into the
cabinet; and, whilst gazing on the Prince, who still palpitated there,
exclaimed, giving vent to her profound reflections, "Pardi! Here is a
daughter well married!"

"A very important matter!" cried Chatillon, who himself lost everything
by this death. "Is this a moment to consider whether your daughte