with her great intelligence; I had almost said her genius.  But in this matter I was not wholly of her opinion.  It seemed to me, Sire, that, in refusing the homage offered to her by these worthy magnates, she, so to speak, disowned the rank ensured to her by your favour.  While the Marquise enjoys your noble affection, she is no ordinary personage.  She has her seat in your own Chapel Royal, so in travelling she has a right to special honour.  By your choice of her, you have made her notable; in giving her your heart, you have made her a part of yourself.  By giving birth to your children, she has acquired her rank at Court, in society, and in history.  Your Majesty intends her to be considered and respected; the escorts of cavalry along the highroads are sufficient proof of that.

All France, Sire, is aware of your munificence and of your princely generosity:  Shall I tell you of the amazement of the provincials at noticing that the ducal housings are absent from my sister’s splendid coach?  Yes, I have taken upon myself to inform you of this surprise, and knowing how greatly Athenais desires this omission to be repaired, I went so far as to promise that your Majesty would cause this to be done forthwith.  It must be done, Sire; the Marquise loves you as much as it is possible for you to be loved; of this, all that she has sacrificed is a proof.  But while dearly loving you, she fears to appear importunate, and were it not for my respectful freedom of speech, perhaps you would still be ignorant of that which she most fervently desires.

What we all three of us ask is but a slight thing for your Majesty, who, with a single word, can create a thousand nobles and princes.  The kings, your ancestors, used their glory in making their lovers illustrious.  The Valois built temples and palaces in their honour.  You, greater than all the Valois, should not let their example suffice.  And I am sure that you will do for the mother of the Duc du Maine what the young prince himself would do for her if you should happen to forget.

Your Majesty’s most humble servant, “Marquise de Thianges.”

To the Abbess and myself; this ending seemed rather too sarcastic, but Madame de Thianges was most anxious to let it stand.  There was no way of softening or glossing it over; so the letter went off, just as she had written it.

It so happened that the Bishop of Poitiers was in his diocese at the time.  He came to pay me a visit, and ask me if I could get an abbey for his nephew, who, though extremely young, already acted as vicar-general for him.  “I would willingly get him a whole regiment,” I replied, “provided M. de Louvois be of those that are my friends.  As for the benefices, they depend, as you know, upon the Pere de la Chaise, and I don’t think he would be willing to grant me a favour.”

“Permit me to assure you, madame, that in this respect you are in error,” replied the Bishop.  “Pere de la Chaise respects you and honours you, and only speaks of you in such terms.  What distresses him is to see that you have an aversion for him.  Let me write to him, and say that my nephew has had the honour of being presented to you, and that you hoped he might have a wealthy abbey to enable him to bear the privations of his calling.”