CHAPTER XX.

The Duchesse d’Orleans.—­The Duchesse de Richelieu.—­An Epigram of Madame de Maintenon.—­An Epigram of the King to His Brother.

Madame la Dauphine brought into the world a son, christened Louis at the font, to whom the King a few moments afterwards gave the title of the Duke of Burgundy.  We had become accustomed, little by little, to the face of this Dauphine, who (thanks to the counsels and instruction of her lady in waiting) adopted French manners promptly enough, succeeded in doing her hair in a satisfactory manner, and in making an appearance which met with general approval.  Madame de Maintenon, for all her politeness and forethought, never succeeded in pleasing her; and these two women, obliged to see each other often from their relative positions, suffered martyrdom when they met.

The King, who had noticed it, began by resenting it from his daughter-in-law.  The latter, proud and haughty, like all these petty German royalties, thought herself too great a lady to give way.

Madame de Maintenon had, near the person of the young Bavarian, two intermediaries of importance, who did not sing her praises from morn till eve.  The one was that Charlotte Elizabeth of Bavaria, whom I have already described to the life, who, furious at her personal monstrousness, could not as a rule forgive pretty women.  The other was the Duchesse de Richelieu, maid of honour to the Princess of Bavaria, once the protector of Madame Scarron, and now her antagonist, probably out of jealousy.

These two acid tongues had taken possession of the Dauphine,—­a character naturally prone to jealousy,—­and they permitted themselves against the lady in waiting all the mockery and all the depreciation that one can permit oneself against the absent.

Insinuations and abuse produced their effect so thoroughly that Madame de Maintenon grew disgusted with the duties of her office, and with the consent of the monarch she no longer appeared at the house of his daughter-in-law, except on state and gala occasions.  Madame de Richelieu related to me one day the annoyance and mortification of the new Marquise.

“Madame d’Orleans came in one day,” said she to me, “to Madame la Dauphine, where Madame de Maintenon was.  The Princess of the Palais Royal, who does not put herself about, as every one knows, greeted only the Dauphine and me.  She spoke of her health, which is neither good nor bad, and pretended that her gowns were growing too large for her, in proof that she was going thin.  ‘I do not know,’ she added, brusquely, ‘what Madame Scarron does; she is always the same.’

“The lady in waiting answered on the spot:  ’Madame, no one finds you changed, either, and it is always the same thing.’

“The half-polite, half-bantering tone of Madame de Maintenon nonplussed the Palatine for the moment; she wished to demand an explanation from the lady in waiting.  She took up her muff, without making a courtesy, and retired very swiftly.”