This she also told the King, whom she perceived shed tears of consternation and distress.

That evening, at Versailles, the King said to me, “If this crime is my brother’s handiwork, his head shall fall on the scaffold.”

When the body was opened, proof of poison was obtained, and poison of the most corrosive sort, for the stomach was eaten into in three places, and there was general inflammation.

The King summoned his brother, in order to force him to explain so heinous a crime.  On perceiving his mien, Monsieur became pale and confused.  Rushing upon him sword in hand, the King was for demolishing him on the spot.  The captain of the guard hastened thither, and Monsieur swore by the Holy Ghost that he was guiltless of the death of his dear wife.

Leaving him a prey to remorse, if guilty he were, the King commanded him to withdraw, and then shut himself up in his closet to prepare a consolatory message to the English Court.  According to the written statement, which was also published in the newspapers, Madame had been carried off by an attack of bilious colic.  Five or six bribed physicians certified to that effect, and a lying set of depositions, made for mere form’s sake, bore out their statements in due course.

The Abbe de Bossuet, charged to preach the funeral sermon, was apparently desirous of being as obliging as the doctors.  His homily led off with such fulsome praise of Monsieur, that, from that day forward, he lost all his credit, and sensible people thereafter only looked upon him as a vile sycophant, a mere dealer in flattery and fairy-tales.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Madame Scarron.—­Her Petition.—­The King’s Aversion to Her.—­She is
Presented to Madame de Montespan.—­The Queen of Portugal Thinks of
Engaging Her.—­Madame de Montespan Keeps Her Back.—­The Pension
Continued.—­The King’s Graciousness.—­Rage of Mademoiselle d’Aumale.

As all the pensions granted by the Queen-mother had ceased at her demise, the pensioners began to solicit the ministers anew, and all the petitions, as is customary, were sent direct to the King.

One day his Majesty said to me, “Have you ever met in society a young widow, said to be very pretty, but, at the same time, extremely affected?  It is to Madame Scarron that I allude, who, both before and after widowhood, has resided at the Marais.”

I replied that Madame Scarron was an extremely pleasant person, and not at all affected.  I had met her at the Richelieus’ or the Albrets’, where her charm of manner and agreeable wit had made her in universal request.  I added a few words of recommendation concerning her petition, which, unfortunately, had just been torn up, and the King curtly rejoined, “You surprise me, madame; the portrait I had given to me of her was a totally different one.”

That same evening, when the young Marquis d’Alincour spoke to me about this petition which had never obtained any answer, I requested him to go and see Madame Scarron as soon as possible, and tell her that, in her own interest, I should be pleased to receive her.