“Things were not done so nobly for me; and yet, I can say without vanity, I was of a better house than she.”

This remark paints the Queen, Maria Theresa, better than anything which could be said.  Can one wonder, after that, that she should have brought into the world an hereditary prince who so keenly loves ‘touru’, and asks for it!

Madame de Maintenon and M. Bossuet had gone to receive the Princess of Schelestadt.  When she was on her husband’s territory, and it was necessary, to confess her for the sacrament of matrimony, she was strangely embarrassed.  They had not remembered to bring a chaplain of her own nation for her; and she could not confess except in the German tongue.

Madame de Maintenon, who is skilled in all matters of religion, said to the prelate:  “I really think, monsieur, that, having educated Monsieur le Dauphin, you ought to know a little German,—­you who have composed the treatise on universal history.”

The Bishop of Meaux excused himself, saying that he knew Greek, Syriac, and even Hebrew; but that, through a fatality, he was ignorant of the German language.  A trumpeter was then sent out to ask if there was not in the country a Catholic priest who was a German, or acquainted with the German tongue.  Luckily one was found, and Madame de Maintenon, who is very, pedantic, even in the matter of toilet and ornaments, trembled with joy and thanked God for it.  But what was her astonishment when they came to bring her the priest!  He was in coloured clothes, a silk doublet, flowing peruke, and boots and spurs.  The lady in waiting rated him severely, and was tempted to send him back.  But Bossuet—­a far greater casuist than she—­decided that in these urgent cases one need hold much less to forms.  They were contented with taking away the spurs from this amphibious personage; they pushed him into a confessional,—­the curtain of which he was careful to draw before himself,—­and they brought the Bavarian Princess, who, not knowing the circumstances, confessed the sins of her whole life to this sort of soldier.

Madame de Maintenon always had this general confession on her conscience; she scolded Bossuet for it as a sort of sacrilege, and the latter, who was only difficult and particular with simple folk, quoted historical examples in which soldiers, on the eve of battle, had confessed to their general.

“Yes,” said the King, on hearing these quotations from the imperturbable man; “that must have been to the Bishop of Puy or the Bishop of Orange, who, in effect, donned the shield and cuirass at the time of the crusades against the Saracens; or perhaps, again, to the Cardinal de la Valette d’Epernon, who commanded our armies under Richelieu successfully.”

“No, Sire,” replied the Bishop; “to generals who were simply soldiers.”

“But,” said the King, “were the confessions, then, null?”