id not care by what means. If she
had remained longer, the King, teased as he was, would hardly have been
secure against the transports of her passion. The Queen was extremely
grateful to Maintenon for having been the means of driving away Montespan
and bringing back the King to the marriage-bed; an arrangement to which,
like an honest Spanish lady, she had no sort of objection. With that
goodness of heart which was so remarkable in her, she thought she was
bound to do something for Madame de Maintenon, and therefore consented to
her being appointed dame d'atour. It was not until shortly before her
death that she learnt she had been deceived by her. After the Queen's
death, Louis XIV. thought he had gained a triumph over the very
personification of virtue in overcoming the old lady's scruples; he used
to visit her every afternoon, and she gained such an influence over him
as to induce him to marry.

Madame la Marechale de Schomberg had a niece, Mademoiselle d'Aumale, whom
her parents had placed at St. Cyr during the King's life. She was ugly,
but possessed great wit, and succeeded in amusing the King so well that
the old Maintenon became disturbed at it. She picked a quarrel with her,
and wanted to send her again to the convent. But the King opposed this,
and made the old lady bring her back. When the King died, Mademoiselle
d'Aumale would not stay any longer with Madame de Maintenon.

When the Dauphine first arrived, she did not know a soul. Her household
was formed before she came. She did not know who Maintenon was; and when
Monsieur explained it to her a year or two afterwards, it was too late to
resist. The Dauphin used at first to laugh at the old woman, but as he
was amorous of one of the Dauphine's Maids of Honour, and consequently
was acquainted with the gouvernante of the Maids of Honour,
Montchevreuil, a creature of Maintenon's, that old fool set her out in
very fair colours. Madame de Maintenon did not scruple to estrange the
Dauphin from the Dauphine, and very piously to sell him first Rambure and
afterwards La Force.

18th April, 1719--To-day I will begin my letter with the story of Madame
de Ponikau, in Saxony. One day during her lying-in, as she was quite
alone, a little woman dressed in the ancient French fashion came into the
room and begged her to permit a party to celebrate a wedding, promising
that they would take care it should be when she was alone. Madame de
Ponikau having cons