Monseigneur, who does not like me, pays me court the same as any one else.  Being very jealous of the pretty Comte de Vermandois and his brother, the Duc du Maine, he tries to imitate their elegant manner, but is too stiff to succeed.  The Duc du Maine shows him the respect inspired by his governess, but the Comte de Vermandois, long separated from his mother, has been less coached in this respect, and being thoroughly candid and sincere, shows little restraint.  Often, instead of styling him “Monseigneur,” he calls him merely “Monsieur le Dauphin,” while the latter, as if such a title were common or of no account, looks at his brother and makes no reply.

When I told the King about such petty fraternal tiffs, he said, “With age, all that will disappear; as a man grows taller, he gets a better, broader view of his belongings.”

M. le Dauphin shows a singular preference for Mademoiselle de Nantes, but my daughter, brimful of wit and fun, often makes merry at the expense of her exalted admirer.

Mademoiselle de Blois, the eldest daughter of Madame de la Valliere, is the handsomest, most charming person it is possible to imagine.  Her slim, graceful figure reminds one of the beautiful goddesses, with whom poets entertain us; she abounds in accomplishments and every sort of charm.  Her tender solicitude for her mother, and their constant close companionship, have doubtless served to quicken her intelligence and penetration.

Like the King, she is somewhat grave; she has the same large brown eyes, and just his Austrian lip, his shapely hand and well-turned leg, almost his selfsame voice.  Madame de la Valliere, who, in the intervals of pregnancy, had no bosom to speak of, has shown marked development in this respect since living at the convent.  The Princess, ever since she attained the age of puberty, has always seemed adequately furnished with physical charms.  The King provided her with a husband in the person of the Prince de Conti, a nephew of the Prince de Conde.  They are devotedly attached to each other, being both as handsome as can be.  The Princesse de Conti enjoys the entire affection of the Queen, who becomes quite uneasy if she does not see her for five or six days.

Certain foreign princes proposed for her hand, when the King replied that the presence of his daughter was as needful to him as daylight or the air he breathed.

I have here surely drawn a most attractive portrait of this princess, and I ought certainly to be believed, for Madame de Conti is not fond of me at all.  Possibly she looks upon me as the author of her mother’s disgrace; I shall never be at pains to undeceive her.  Until the moment of her departure, Madame de la Valliere used always to visit me.  The evening before her going she took supper with me, and I certainly had no cause to read in her looks either annoyance or reproach.  Mademoiselle de Montpensier, who happened to call, saw us at table, and stayed to have some dessert with us.  She has often told me afterwards how calm and serene the Duchess looked.  One would never have thought she was about to quit a brilliant Court for the hair shirt of the ascetic, and all the death-in-life of a convent.  I grieved for her, I wept for her, and I got her a grand gentleman as a husband.