I had come out from Madame de Maintenon by the door of mirrors, which leads to the great gallery.  There was much company there at the moment; M. le Prince de Salm came to me and said:  “Go and put on your peignoir; you are flushed, and I can perfectly well understand why.”  He pressed my hand affectionately.  In all the salons they were eager to see me pass.  Some courageous persons came even within touch of my fan; and all were more or less pleased with my mishap and downfall.  I had seen all these figures at my feet, and almost all were under obligations to me.  I left Versailles again very early.  When I was seated in my carriage I noticed the King, who, from the height of his balcony in the court of marble, watched me set off and disappear.

I settled at Paris, where my personal interest and my great fortune gave me an existence which many might have envied.  I never returned to Versailles, except for the weddings of my eldest daughter, and of my son, the Serious;—­[Louis Augusts de Bourbon, Duc du Maine, a good man, somewhat devout and melancholy. (See the Memoirs of Dubois and Richelieu.)—­Editor’s note.]—­I always loved him better than he did me.

Pere de Latour, my director, obtained from me then, what I had refused hitherto to everybody, a letter of reconciliation to M. le Marquis de Montespan:  I had foreseen the reply, which was that of an obstinate, ill-bred, and evil man.

Pere de Latour, going further, wished to impose hard, not to say murderous, penances on me; I begged him to keep within bounds, and not to make me impatient.  This Oratorian and his admirers have stated that I wore a hair shirt and shroud.  Pious slanders, every word of them!  I give many pensions and alms, that is to say, I do good to several families; the good that I bestow about me will be more agreeable to God than any harm I could do myself, and that I maintain.

The Marquis d’Antin, my son, since my disgrace.......

Here end the memoirs of madame de Montespan.

THE ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: 

All the death-in-life of a convent
Always sold at a loss which must be sold at a given moment
Ambition puts a thick bandage over the eyes
And then he would go off, laughing in his sleeve
Armed with beauty and sarcasm
Cannot reconcile themselves to what exists
Conduct of the sort which cements and revives attachments
Console me on the morrow for what had troubled me to-day
Cuddlings and caresses of decrepitude
Depicting other figures she really portrays her own
Domestics included two nurses, a waiting-maid, a physician
Extravagant, without the means to be so
Grow like a dilapidated house; I am only here to repair myself
Happy with him as a woman who takes her husband’s place can be
Hate me, but fear me
He contradicted me about trifles