le I
admit, and which I should be ashamed to mention if it did not under the
circumstances serve as a characteristic of him.
Although the place he undressed in was very well illuminated, the
chaplain at the evening prayers there held in his hand a lighted candle,
which he gave afterwards to the chief valet-de-chambre, who carried it
before the King until he reached his arm-chair, and then handed it to
whomever the King ordered him to give it to. On this evening the King,
glancing all around him, cast his eye upon me, and told the valet to give
the candle to me. It was an honour which he bestowed sometimes upon one,
sometimes upon another, according to his whim, but which, by his manner
of bestowing it, was always coveted, as a great distinction. My surprise
may be imagined when I heard myself named aloud for this office, not only
on this but on many other occasions. It was not that there was any lack
of people of consideration to hold the candle; but the King was
sufficiently piqued by my retirement not to wish everybody to see that
he was so.
For three years he failed not to make me feel to what extent he was angry
with me. He spoke to me no longer; he scarcely bestowed a glance upon
me, and never once alluded to my letter. To show that his annoyance did
not extend to my wife, but that it was solely and wholly directed against
me, he bestowed, about eight months after, several marks of favour upon
Madame de Saint-Simon. She was continually invited to the suppers at
Trianon--an honour which had never before been granted her. I only
laughed at this. Madame de Saint-Simon was not invited to Marly; because
the husbands always, by right, accompanied their wives there, apartments
being given for both. At Trianon it was different. Nobody was allowed
to sleep there except those absolutely in attendance. The King wished,
therefore, the better to mark by this distinction that the exclusion was
intended for me alone, and that my wife had no part in it.
Notwithstanding this; I persevered in my ordinary assiduity, without ever
asking to be invited to Marly, and lived agreeably with my wife and my
friends. I have thought it best to finish with this subject at once--now
I must go back to my starting point.
At the commencement of this year (1702) it seemed as though the
flatterers of the King foresaw that the prosperity of his reign was at
an end, and that henceforth they would only have to praise him for his
cons
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