she ventured to address herself to the young and
inexperienced Duchess de Fontanges. Gently she endeavored to lead her
to some conception of the enormity of the life she was leading, and of
the indecency of compromising the king and the court by undignified
brawls.

The vain and heartless beauty received her counsels with bitter
derision and passionate insult, and attributed every annoyance to
which, as she averred, she was continually subjected, to the jealous
envy of those with whose ambitious views she had interfered; more than
hinting that Madame de Maintenon herself was among the number. She
was, however, only answered by a placid smile, and instructed to
remember that those who sought to share her triumphs and her splendor
must be content at the same time to partake her sin. It was a price
too heavy to pay even for the smiles of a monarch. In vain did the
flushed and furious beauty plead the example of others, higher born
and more noble than herself. The calm and unmoved monitress instantly
availed herself of this hollow argument to bid her, in her turn, to
set an example which the noblest and the best-born might be proud to
follow.

"And how can I do this?" was the sullen inquiry.

"By renouncing the society of the king," firmly replied Madame de
Maintenon. "Either you love him, or you love him not. If you love him,
you should make an effort to save both his honor and your own. If you
do not love him, it will cost you no effort to withdraw from the
court. In either case you will act wisely and nobly."

"Would not any one believe who heard you," passionately exclaimed the
duchess, "that it was as easy to leave a king as to throw off a
glove?"[P]

[Footnote P: Louis XIV and the Court of France.]

This was the only reply. The mission of Madame de Maintenon had
entirely failed. The proud, unblushing beauty, whose effrontery passed
all bounds, was greatly enraged against Madame de Maintenon; and when
she perceived that the king was again beginning to take refuge in her
virtuous society and conversation, she vowed the most signal
vengeance.

But the day of retribution soon came--far sooner than could have been
expected. The guilty and pampered duchess was taken ill--hopelessly
so, with a sickness that destroyed all her beauty. She became sallow,
pallid, gaunt, emaciate, haggard. The selfish, heartless king wished
to see her no more. He did not conceal his repugnance, and quite
forsook her. The humiliation, di