We gave them money, said pleasant things to everybody, and invited all the six clerics to sup with us.  These gentry spoke with great respect of the other Madame de Maintenon, who had become disgusted with her property, and with France generally, because, for two winters running, her orange-groves and fig-trees had been frost-bitten.  She herself, being a most chilly, person, never left off her furs until August, and in order to avoid looking at or walking upon snow and ice, she fled to the other end of the world.

“The other extreme will bring her back to us,” observed Madame de Maintenon to the priests.  “Though his Majesty were to give me Martinique or Saint Domingo, I certainly would never go and live there myself.”

When we returned, all these little details greatly amused the King.  He, too, wanted to go and see the castle of another Fouquet, but, as we complained of the bad roads, he ordered these to be mended along the entire route.

CHAPTER XXXII.

The Second Comte de Vexin.—­He is made Abbe of Saint Denis.—­Priests or Devils?—­The Coronation Diadem.—­Royalty Jokes with the Monks.

My poor little Comte de Vegin died.  We all mourned for him as he deserved; his pretty face would have made every one love him; his extreme gentleness had nothing of the savage warrior about it, but at any rate, he was the best-looking cardinal in Christendom.  He made such funny speeches that one could not help recollecting them.  He was more of a Mortemart than a Bourbon, but that did not prevent the King from idolising him.

The King thought of conferring the Abbey of Saint Germain des Pres upon his younger brother; to this I was opposed, imagining, perhaps without reason, that such succession would bring bad luck.  So the King presented him to the Abbey of Saint Denis, the revenue of which was equally considerable, and he conferred upon him the title of Comte de Vexin, caring nothing for the remarks I made concerning the similarities of such names and distinctions.

The second Comte de Vegin bid fair to be a man of reflection and of genius.  He obviously disliked his little abbe’s dress, and we always kept saying, “It’s only for the time being, my little fellow.”

When, after his nomination, the monks of Saint Denis came to make their obeisance to him, he asked if they were devils, and continually covered his face so as not to see them.

The King arrived, and with a few flattering words managed to soothe the priests’ outraged dignity, and when they asked the little prince if he would honour them by a visit of inspection to Suger’s room,

[Suger was Abbe of Saint Denis, and a famous minister of Queen Blanche.  Editor’s Note.]

which had just been restored, he replied with a sulky smile, “I’ll come and see you, but with my eyes shut.”

Then the priests mildly remonstrated because the coronation diadem had not been brought back to their store of treasures, but was still missing.