My father-confessor, who since my arrival at Court had never vexed or thwarted me, suddenly altered his whole manner towards me, from which I readily concluded that the Queen had got hold of him.  This priest, of gentle, easy-going, kindly nature, never spoke to me except in a tone of discontent and reproach.  He sought to induce me to leave the King there and then, and retire to some remote chateau.  Seeing that he was intriguing, and had, so to speak, taken up his position, like a woman of experience I took up mine as well, and politely dismissed him, at which he was somewhat surprised.  In matters of religion, Madame de Maintenon, who understands such things, was my usual mentor.  I told her that I was disheartened, and should not go to confession again for ever so long.  She was shocked at my resolve, and strove all she could to make me change my mind and endeavour to lead me back into the right way.

She forever kept repeating her favourite argument, saying, “Good gracious! suppose you should die in that state!”

I replied that it was not my fault, as I had never ceased to obey the precepts of the Holy Church.  “It was my old father-confessor,” said I, “the Canon of Saint Thomas du Louvre, who had harshly refused to confess me.”

“What he does,” replied she, “is solely for your own good.”

“But if he has only my well-being in view,” I quickly retorted, “why did not he think of this at first?  It would have been far better to have stopped me at the outset, instead of letting me calmly proceed upon my career.  He is obeying the Queen’s orders, or else those of that Abbe Bossuet de Mauleon, who no longer dares attack me to my face.”

As we thus talked, the Duc de Vivonne came into my room.  Learning the topic of our discussion, he spoke as follows:  “I should not be general of the King’s Galleys and a soldier at heart and by profession if my opinion in this matter were other than it is.  I have attentively read controversies on this point, and have seen it conclusively proved that our kings never kept a confessor at Court.  Among these kings, too, there were most holy, most saintly people, and—­”

“Then, what do you conclude from that, Duke?” asked Madame de Maintenon.

“Why, that Madame will do well to respect his Majesty the King as her father-confessor.”

“Oh, Duke, you shock me!  What dreadful advice, to be sure!” cried the governess.

“I have not the least wish to shock you, madame; but my veneration for D’Aubigne—­

[Theodore Agrippa, Baron d’Aubigne, lieutenant-general in the army of Henri IV.  He persevered in Calvinism after the recantation of the King.—­Editor’s Note.]

your illustrious grandfather—­is too great to let me think that he is among the damned, and he never attended confession at all.”

“Eternity hides that secret from us,” replied Madame de Maintenon.  “Each day I pray to God to have mercy upon my poor grandfather; if I thought he were among the saved, I should never be at pains to do this.”