This letter was not, in my eyes, a masterpiece, but neither was it from a vulgar hand.  For a moment I suspected Madame de Maintenon.  She was named in it, it is true, as though by the way, but her interest in it was easy to discover, since the writer dared to try to induce me to sell her, to give up to her, my superintendence.  I communicated my suspicions to the Marquise de Thianges.  She said to me:  “We must see her,—­her face expresses her emotions very clearly; she is not good at lying; we shall easily extract her secret, and make her blush for her stratagem.”

Ibrahim, faithful to his old friendship for me, had recently sent me stuffs of Asia and essences of the seraglio, under the pretence of politeness and as a remembrance.  I wrote two lines to the Marquise, engaging her to come and sacrifice half an hour to me to admire with me these curiosities.  Suspecting nothing, she came to my apartments, when she accepted some perfumes, and found all these stuffs divine.  My sister, Madame de Thianges, said to her: 

“Madame, I do not wish to be the last to congratulate you on that boundless confidence and friendship that our Queen accords you.  Assuredly, no one deserves more than you this feeling of preference; it appears that the princess is developing, and that, at last, she is taking a liking for choice conversation and for wit.”

“Madame,” answered the lady in waiting, “her Majesty does not prefer me to any one here.  You are badly informed.  She has the goodness to accord to me a little confidence; and since she finds in me some facility in the Spanish tongue, of which she wishes to remain the idolater all her life, she loves to speak that tongue with me, catching me up when I go wrong either in the pronunciation or the grammar, as she desires to be corrected herself when she commits some offence against our French.”

“You were born,” added Madame de Thianges, “to work at the education of kings.  It is true that few governesses or tutors are as amiable.  There is a sound in your voice which goes straight to the heart; and what others teach rudely or monotonously, you teach musically and almost singing.  Since the Queen loves your French and your Spanish, everything has been said; you are indispensable to her.  Things being so, I dare to propose to you, Madame, a third occupation, which will suit you better than anything else in the world, and which will complete the happiness of her Majesty.

“Here is Madame de Montespan, who is growing disgusted with grandeur, after having recognised its emptiness, who is enthusiastically desiring to go and enjoy her House of Saint Joseph, and wishes to get rid of her superintendence forthwith, at any cost.”

“What!” said Madame de Maintenon.  Then to me, “You wish to sell your office without having first assured yourself whether it be pleasing to the King?  It appears to me that you are not acting on this occasion with the caution with which you are generally credited.”