The love-affair between Mademoiselle de la Valliere and the King having now become public, M. de Montespan condemned this attachment in terms of such vehemence that I perforce felt afraid of the consequences of such censure.  He talked openly about the matter in society, airing his views thereanent.  Impetuously and with positive hardihood, he expressed his disapproval in unstinted terms, criticising and condemning the prince’s conduct.  Once, at the ballet, when within two feet of the Queen, it was with the utmost difficulty that he could be prevented from discussing so obviously unfitting a question, or from sententiously moralising upon the subject.

All at once the news of an inheritance in the country served to occupy his attention.  He did all that he could to make me accompany him on this journey.  He pointed out to me that it behoved no young wife to be anywhere without her husband.  I, for my part, represented to him all that in my official capacity I owed to the Queen.  And as at that time I still loved him heartily (M. de Montespan, I mean), and was sincerely attached to him, I advised him to sell off the whole of the newly inherited estate to some worthy member of his own family, so that he might remain with us in the vast arena wherein I desired and hoped to achieve his rapid advance.

Never was there man more obstinate or more selfwilled than the Marquis.  Despite all my friendly persuasion, he was determined to go.  And when once settled at the other end of France, he launched out into all sorts of agricultural schemes and enterprises, without even knowing why he did so.  He constructed roads, built windmills, bridged over a large torrent, completed the pavilions of his castle, replanted coppices and vineyards, and, besides all this, hunted the chamois, bears, and boars of the Nebouzan and the Pyrenees.  Four or five months after his departure I received a letter from him of so singular a kind that I kept it in spite of myself, and in the Memoirs it will not prove out of place.  Far better than any words of mine, it will depict the sort of mind, the logic, and the curious character of the man who was my husband.

Montespan,—­May 15, 1667.

I count more than ever, madame, upon your journey to the Pyrenees.  If you love me, as all your letters assure me, you should promptly take a good coach and come.  We are possessed of considerable property here, which of late years my family have much neglected.  These domains require my presence, and my presence requires yours.  Enough is yours of wit or of good sense to understand that.