riggling like an eel, without knowing where to hide,
formed a spectacle that diverted people more than half an hour: so that
at last the nymph swam in her bed, from which the water flowed
everywhere, slushing all the chamber. It was enough to make one die of
laughter. On the morrow she sulked, and was more than ever laughed at
for her pains.

Her fits of sulkiness came over her either when the tricks played were
too violent, or when M. le Grand abused her. He thought, very properly,
that a person who bore the name of Lorraine should not put herself so
much on the footing of a buffoon; and, as he was a rough speaker, he
sometimes said the most abominable things to her at table; upon which the
Princess would burst out crying, and then, being enraged, would sulk.
The Duchesse de Bourgogne used then to pretend to sulk, too; but the
other did not hold out long, and came crawling back to her, crying,
begging pardon for having sulked, and praying that she might not cease to
be a source of amusement! After some time the Duchess would allow
herself to be melted, and the Princess was more villainously treated than
ever, for the Duchesse de Bourgogne had her own way in everything.
Neither the King nor Madame de Maintenon found fault with what she did,
so that the Princesse d'Harcourt had no resource; she did not even dare
to complain of those who aided in tormenting her; yet it would not have
been prudent in any one to make her an enemy.

The Princesse d'Harcourt paid her servants so badly that they concocted a
plan, and one fine day drew up on the Pont Neuf. The coachman and
footmen got down, and came and spoke to her at the door, in language she
was not used to hear. Her ladies and chambermaid got down, and went
away, leaving her to shift as she might. Upon this she set herself to
harangue the blackguards who collected, and was only too happy to find a
man, who mounted upon the seat and drove her home. Another time, Madame
de Saint-Simon, returning from Versailles, overtook her, walking in full
dress in the street, and with her train under her arms. Madame de Saint-
Simon stopped, offered her assistance, and found that she had been left
by her servants, as on the Pont Neuf. It was volume the second of that
story; and even when she came back she found her house deserted, every
one having gone away at once by agreement. She was very violent with her
servants, beat them, and changed diem every day.

Upon one occasion,