The print had already been widely distributed when the engraver and his plate were seized.  This time Hathelin had not the honour of the Bastille; he was sent to some depot.  And although his action was absolutely fresh and unknown to me, all Paris was convinced that I had inspired his unfortunate talent.  Madame de Maintenon was convinced of it, and believes it still.  The King has done me the honour to assure me lately that he had banished the idea from his mind; but he was so persuaded of it at first that he could not pardon me for so black an intrigue, and, but for the fear of scandal, would have hanged the engraver, Hathelin, in order to provide my gentlemen, the engravers, with a subject for a fine plate.

About the same time, the Jesuits caused Madame de Maintenon a much more acute pain than that of the ridiculous print.  She endured this blow with her accustomed courage; nevertheless, she conceived such a profound aversion to the leaders of this ever-restless company, that she has never been seen in their churches, and was at the greatest pains to rob them of the interior of Saint Cyr.  “They are men of intrigue,” she said to Madame de Montchevreuil, her friend and confidante.  “The name of Jesus is always in their mouths, he is in their solemn device, they have taken him for their banner and namesake; but his candour, his humility are unknown to them.  They would like to order everything that exists, and rule even in the palaces of kings.  Since they have the privilege and honour of confessing our monarch, they wish to impose the same bondage upon me.  Heaven preserve me from it!  I do not want rectors of colleges and professors to direct my unimportant conscience.  I like a confessor who lets you speak, and not those who put words into your mouth.”

With the intention of mortifying her and then of being able to publish the adventure, they charged one of their instruments to seek her out at Versailles in order to ask an audience of her, not as a Jesuit, but as a plain churchman fallen upon adversity.

The petition of this man having been admitted, he received a printed form which authorised him to appear before madame at her time of good works, for she had her regular hours for everything.  He was introduced into the great green salon, which was destined, as one knows, for this kind of audience.  There were many people present, and before all this company this old fox thus unfolded himself: 

“Madame, I bless the Sovereign Dispenser of all things for what he has done for you; you have merited his protection from your tenderest youth.  When, after your return from Martinique, you came to dwell in the little town of Niort, with your lady mother, I saw you often in our Jesuit church, which was at two paces from your house.  Your modesty, your youth, your respectful tenderness towards Madame la Baronne d’Aubigne, your excellent mother, attracted the attention of our community, who saw