“Do not interrupt me—­yes, the kindness.  From the moment that she is in favour, all that comes from her requires consideration.  She had me taken into her small salon, and there she charged me to tell you that she has always loved you, that she always will; that your rupture with her has displeased the King; that for a long time, and on a thousand occasions, she has excused you to his Majesty, but that things are now hopeless; that your retreat is required at all costs, and that it will be joined with an annual pension of six hundred thousand livres.”

“And you advise me—?” I said to my brother.

“I advise you, I implore you, I conjure you, to accept these propositions which save everything.”

My course was clear to me on the instant.  Wishing to be relieved of the importunities of the Marshal (a courtier, if ever there was one), I embraced him with tears in my eyes.  I assured him that, for the honour of the family and out of complacence, I accepted his propositions.  I begged him to take me back to Versailles, where I had to gather together my money, jewels, and papers.

The Duc de Vivonne, well as he knew me, did not suspect my trickery; he applied a score of kisses to my “pretty little white hands,” and his postilions, giving free play to their reins, speedily brought us back to the chateau.

All beaming with joy and satisfaction, he went to convey his reply to Madame de Maintenon, who was probably expecting him.  Twenty minutes hardly elapsed.  The King himself entered my apartment.

He came towards me with a friendly air, and, hardly remarking my agitation, which I was suppressing, he dared to address the following words to me: 

“The shortest follies are the best, dear Marquise; you see things at last as they should be seen.  Your determination, which the Marechal de Vivonne has just informed me of, gives me inexpressible pleasure; you are going to take the step of a clever woman, and everybody will applaud you for it.  It will be eighteen years to-morrow since we took a fancy for each other.  We were then in that period of life when one sees only that which flatters, and the satisfaction of the heart surpasses everything.  Our attachment, if it had been right and legitimate, might have begun with the same ardour, but it could not have endured so long; that is the property of all contested affections.

“From our union amiable children have been born, for whom I have done, and will do, all that a father with good intentions can do.  The Act which acknowledged them in full Parliament has not named you as their mother, because your bonds prevented it, but these respectful children know that they owe you their existence, and not one of them shall forget it while I live.