filled her with
gratitude. They spoke of nothing else at Versailles for two days; after
which, Madame la Comtesse d'Aubigne became, in her turn, a woman of
experience, who judged the new debutantes severely, perhaps, every time
that the occasion arose.

The Comte d'Aubigne passed from an inferior government to a government of
some importance. He made himself beloved by endorsing a thousand
petitions destined for his sister, the monarch's friend; but his
immoderate expenditure caused him to contract debts that his sister would
only pay five or six times.

The Duc de Vivonne, my brother, laughed at him in society; he unceasingly
outraged by his clumsiness his sister's sense of discretion. One day, in
a gaming-house, seeing the table covered with gold, the Marshal exclaimed
at the door: "I will wager that D'Aubigne is here, and makes all this
display; it is a magnificence worthy of him."

"Yes, truly," said the brother of the favourite; "I have received my
silver staff, you see!" That was an uncouth impertinence, for assuredly
M. de Vivonne had not owed this dignity to my favour. The siege of
Candia, and a thousand other distinguished actions, in which he had
immortalised himself, called him to this exalted position, which I dare
to say he has even rendered illustrious.

The Comte d'Aubigne's saying was no less successful on that account, and
his sister, who did not approve at all of this scandalous scene, had the
good sense to condemn her most ridiculous gamester, and to make excuses
for him to my brother and me.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Political Intrigue in Hungary.--Dignity of the King of the Romans.--The
Good Appearance of a German Prince.--The Turks at Vienna.--The Duc de
Lorraine.--The King of Rome.

Whatever the conduct of the King may have been towards me, I do not write
out of resentment or to avenge myself. But in the midst of the peace
which the leisure that he has given me leaves me, I feel some
satisfaction in inditing the memoirs of my life, which was attached to
his so closely, and wish to relate with sincerity the things I have seen.
What would be the use of memoirs from which sincerity were absent? Whom
could they inspire with a desire of reading them?

The King was born profoundly ambitious. All the actions of his public
life bore witness to it. It would be useless for him to rebut the
charge; all his aims, all his political work, all his sieges, all his
battles, all his bloody exploit