the
air there is good; he will remain there until all the ceremonies are over
at Versailles, and the castle well cleaned afterwards; you will then
bring him back again." He at the same time gave orders for going and
furnishing Vincennes, and directed a casket to be opened in which the
plan of the castle was kept, because, as the court had not been there for
fifty years, Cavoye, grand chamberlain of his household, had never
prepared apartments there. "When I was king . . . ," he said several
times.

A quack had brought a remedy which would cure gangrene, he said. The
sore on the leg was hopeless, but they gave the king a dose of the elixir
in a glass of Alicante. "To life and to death," said he as he took the
glass; "just as it shall please God." The remedy appeared to act; the
king recovered a little strength. The throng of courtiers, which, the
day before, had been crowding to suffocation in the rooms of the Duke of
Orleans, withdrew at once. Louis XIV. did not delude himself about this
apparent rally. "Prayers are offered in all the churches for your
Majesty's life," said the parish priest of Versailles. "That is not the
question," said the king "it is my salvation that much needs praying
for."

Madame de Maintenon had hitherto remained in the back rooms, though
constantly in the king's chamber when he was alone. He said to her once,
"What consoles me for leaving you, is that it will not be long before we
meet again." She made no reply. "What will become of you?" he added;
"you have nothing." "Do not think of me," said she; "I am nobody; think
only of God." He said farewell to her; she still remained a little while
in his room, and went out when he was no longer conscious. She had given
away here and there the few movables that belonged to her, and now took
the road to St. Cyr. On the steps she met Marshal Villeroy. "Good by,
marshal," she said curtly, and covered up her face in her coifs. He! it
was who sent her news of the king to the last moment. The Duke of
Orleans, on becoming regent, went to see her, and took her the patent
(_brevet_) for a pension of sixty thousand livres, "which her
disinterestedness had made necessary for her," said the preamble. It was
paid her up to the last day of her life. History makes no further
mention of her name; she never left St. Cyr. Thither the czar Peter the
Great, when he visited Paris and France, went to see her; she was
confined to her bed; he sat