tterly. It was a midnight scene, or rather it was the sombre hour of
three o'clock in the morning.

At 8 o'clock in the morning the king took his carriage and returned to
Marly, and repaired immediately to the apartment of Madame de
Maintenon. At 11 o'clock his physician arrived with the intelligence
that the duke was dead. Again the king was overcome with emotion, and
wept almost convulsively; but, soon recovering himself, he apparently
resolved to make every effort to throw off these painful thoughts.

Notwithstanding the remonstrances of Madame de Maintenon, he persisted
in his determination to dine, as usual, with the ladies of the court.
Much to the astonishment of the ladies, he was heard, in his own room,
singing an air from a recent opera which was far from funereal in its
character.

In the month of May of this same year, 1701, the Duke of Anjou, the
young King of Spain, who was uneasily seated upon his beleaguered
throne, entered into a matrimonial alliance with Maria Louisa of
Savoy, younger sister of Adelaide, the duchess of Burgoyne. She was of
fairy-like stature, but singularly graceful and beautiful, with the
finest complexion, and eyes of dazzling brilliance. Her mental
endowments were also equal to her physical charms. Louis XIV., ever
anxious to retain the control over the court of Spain, appointed the
Princess des Ursins to be the companion and adviser of the young
queen. This lady was alike remarkable for her intelligence, her
sagacity, her tact, and her thorough acquaintance with high and
courtly breeding. The young King of Spain was perfectly enamored of
his lovely bride. She held the entire control over him. The
worldly-wise and experienced Princess des Ursins guided, in obedience
to the dictates of Louis XIV., almost every thought and volition of
the young queen. Thus the monarch at Marly ruled the court at Madrid.

While foreign war was introducing bankruptcy to the treasury of
France, civil war was also desolating the kingdom. The sufferings of
the Protestants equaled any thing which had been witnessed in the days
of pagan persecution. The most ferocious of all these men, who were
breathing out threatenings and slaughter, was the Abbe de Chayla. This
wretch had captured a party of Protestants, and, with them, two young
ladies from families of distinction. They were all brutally thrust
into a dungeon, and were fettered in a way which caused extreme
anguish, and crushed some of their bones. I