The King, who was listening at the door, was greatly tickled by the story.  He came in smiling and thoroughly self-possessed.  Then, addressing the governess, he said, “Madame, allow me to compliment you and to thank you at the same time.  I thought you were of a serious, melancholy disposition, but as I listened to you through the keyhole, I am no longer surprised that you have such long talks with the Marquise.  Will you do me the favour of being as amusing some other time, if I venture to make one of the party?”

The governess, courtesying, blushed somewhat; and the King continued, “Madame, I am aware of your affection for my children; that is a great recommendation to me; banish all restraint; I take the greatest pleasure in your company.”

She replied, “It was the fear of displeasing you which, despite myself, caused me to incur your displeasure.”

The King continued, “Madame, I know that the late M. de Scarron was a man of much wit and also of agreeable manners.  My cousin, De Beaufort, used to rave about him, but on account of his somewhat free poems, his name lacks weight and dignity.  In fact, his name in no way fits so charming a personality as yours; would it grieve you to change it?”

The governess cleverly replied that all that she owed to the memory of her defunct husband was gratitude and esteem.

“Allow me, then, to arrange matters,” added the King.  “I am fond of sonorous names; in this I agree with Boileau.”

A few days afterwards we heard that the splendid Maintenon estates were for sale.  The King himself came to inform the widow of this, and, giving her in advance the fee for education, he counted out a hundred thousand crowns wherewith instantly to purchase the property.

Forthwith the King compelled her to discard this truly ridiculous author’s name, and styled her before everybody Madame de Maintenon.

I must do her the justice to state that her gratitude for the King’s liberality was well-nigh exaggerated, while no change was perceptible in her manners and bearing.  She had, naturally, a grand, dignified air, which was in strange contrast to the grotesque buffoonery of her poet-husband.  Now she is exactly in her proper place, representing to perfection the governess of a king’s children.

Spiteful persons were wont to say that I appeared jealous on seeing her made a marquise like myself.  Good gracious, no!  On the contrary, I was delighted; her parentage was well known to me.  The Duchesse de Navailles, my protectress, was a near relative of hers, and M. d’Aubigne, her grandfather, was one of King Henri’s two Chief Gentlemen of the Chamber.

Madame de Maintenon’s father was, in many respects, greatly to blame.  Without being actually dishonest, he squandered a good deal of his fortune, the greater part being pounced upon by his family; and had the King forced these harpies to disgorge, Madame de Maintenon could have lived in opulence, eclipsing several of the personages at Court.