Madame de Maintenon was like the genius of this reaction towards regularity, propriety, order; all the responsibility for it had been thrown upon her; the good she did has disappeared beneath the evil she allowed or encouraged; the regard lavished upon her by the king has caused illusions as to the discreet care she was continually taking to please him.  She was faithful to her friends, so long as they were in favor with the king; if they had the misfortune to displease him, she, at the very least, gave up seeing them; without courage or hardihood to withstand the caprices and wishes of Louis XIV., she had gained and preserved her empire by dint of dexterity and far-sighted suppleness beneath the externals of dignity.

She never forgot her origin.  “I am not a grandee,” she would say; “I am a mushroom.”  Her life, entirely devoted to the king, had become a veritable slavery; she said as much to Mdlle. d’Aumale at St. Cyr.  “I have to take for my prayers and for mass the time when everybody else is still sleeping.  For, when once they begin coming into my room, at half past seven, I haven’t another moment to myself.  They come filing in, and nobody goes out without being relieved by somebody higher.  At last comes the king; then, of course, they all have to go out; he remains with me up to mass.  I am, still in my night-cap.  The king comes back after mass; then the Duchess of Burgundy with her ladies.  They remain whilst I dine.  I have to keep up the conversation, which flags every moment, and to manage so as to harmonize minds and reconcile hearts which are as far as possible asunder.  The circle is all round me, and I cannot ask for anything to drink; I sometimes say to them (aside), ’It is a great honor, but really I should prefer a footman.’  At last they all go away to dinner.  I should be free during that time, if Monseigneur did not generally choose it for coming to see me, for he often dines earlier in order to go hunting.  He is very difficult to entertain, having very little to say, and finding himself a bore, and running away from himself continually; so I have to talk for two.  Immediately after the king has dined, he comes into my room with all the royal family, princes and princesses; then I must be prepared for the gayest of conversation, and wear a smiling face amidst so much distressing news.  When this company disperses, some lady has always something particular to say to me; the Duchess of Burgundy also wants to have a chat.  The king returns from hunting.  He comes to me.  The door is shut, and nobody else is admitted.  Then I have to share his secret troubles, which are no small number.  Arrives a minister; and the king sets himself to work.  If I am not wanted at this consultation, which seldom happens, I withdraw to some farther distance and write or pray.  I sup, whilst the king is still at work.  I am restless, whether he is alone or not.  The king says to me, ‘You are tired, Madame;