At the death of the poet Scarron (who when he married, and when he died, possessed only a life annuity), Mademoiselle d’Aubigne, once more in poverty, found in Mademoiselle de l’Enclos a generous and persevering friend, who at once offered her her house and table.  Mademoiselle d’Aubigne passed eight or ten months in the intimate society of this philosophical woman.  But her conscience, or her prudery, not permitting her to tolerate longer a manner of life in which she seemed to detect license, she quitted Ninon, advising her to renounce coquetry, whilst the other was advising her to abandon herself to it.

There, where Madame Scarron found the tune of good society with wit, she looked upon herself as in her proper sphere, as long as no open scandal was brought to her notice.  She consented still to remain her friend; but the fear of passing for an approver or an accomplice prevented her from remaining if there were any publicity.  It was not exactly through her scruples, it was through her vanity.  I have had proof of this on various occasions, and I have made no error.

The pretended amours of Mademoiselle d’Aubigne and the Marquis de Villarceaux, Ninon’s friend, are an invention of malicious envy.  I justified Madame Scarron on the matter before the King, when I asked her for the education of the Princes; and having rendered her this justice, from conviction rather than necessity, I shall certainly not charge her with it to-day.  Madame de Maintenon possesses a fund of philosophy which she does not reveal nor confess to everybody.  She fears God in the manner of Socrates and Plato; and as I have seen her more than once make game, with infinite wit, of the Abbe Gobelin, her confessor, who is a pedant and avaricious, I am persuaded that she knows much more about it than all these proud doctors in theology, and that she would be thoroughly capable of confessing her confessor.

She had remained, then, the friend of Ninon, but at heart and in recollection, without sending her news or seeing her again.  Mademoiselle de l’Enclos, rich, disinterested, and proud of her independent position, learned with pleasure the triumph of her former friend, but without writing to her or congratulating her.  Ninon, by the consent of all those who have come near her, is good-nature itself.  One of her relations, or friends, was a candidate for a vacant post as farmer-general, and besought her to make some useful efforts for him.

“I have no one but Madame de Maintenon,” she replied to this relation.  And the other said to her: 

“Madame de Maintenon?  It is as though you had the King himself!”

Mademoiselle de l’Enclos, trimming her pen with her trusty knife, wrote to the lady in waiting an agreeable and polished letter, one of those letters, careful without stiffness, that one writes, indulging oneself a little with the intention of getting oneself read.

The letter of solicitation seemed so pretty to the lady in waiting that she made the King peruse it.