Madame de Montausier assured me that the King’s bearing was fairly calm on the whole, and she also added that he had granted an interview of half an hour at least to the Abbe Bossuet, who had discoursed to him about me in a strain similar to that of the other clerics.

She was my sincere friend; she promised to come to Clagny every evening, driving thither incognito.

She had hardly been gone an hour, when my footman announced “Monsieur Bossuet, Bishop of Condom.”

At the mention of this name, I felt momentarily inclined to refuse to see its owner; but I conquered my disgust, and I did well.  The prelate, with his semi-clerical, semi-courtly air, made me a low bow.  I calmly waited, so as to give him time to deliver his message.  The famous rhetorician proceeded as follows: 

“You know, madame, with what health-giving sacrifices the Church is now engaged.  The merits of our Lord doubtless protect Christians at all times, but the Church has appointed times more efficacious, ceremonies more useful, springs yet more abounding.  Thus it is that we now celebrate the grand nine days of the jubilee.

“To this mystic pool herdsman and monarchs alike receive summons and admission.  The most Christian King must, for his own sake, accomplish his own sanctification; his sanctification provides for that of his subjects.

“Chosen by God to this royal priesthood, he comprehends the duties imposed upon him by such noble office.  The passions of the heart are maladies from which man may recover, just as he recovers from physical disease.  The physicians of the soul have lifted up their voice, have taken sage counsel together; and I come to inform you of the monarch’s miraculous recovery, and at his request, I bring you this important and welcome news.

“For convalescents, greater care is required than for others; the King, and the whole of France, beseech you, with my voice, to have respect and care for the convalescence of our monarch, and I beg you, madame, to leave at once for Fontevrault.”

“For Fontevrault?” I cried, without betraying my emotion.  “Fontevrault is near Poitiers; it is too far away.  No, I would rather go to Petit-Bourg, near the forest of Fontainebleau.”

“Fontainebleau is but eighteen leagues from the capital,” he answered; “such proximity would be dangerous.  I must insist upon Fontevrault, madame.”

“But I cannot take my children to Fontevrault,” I retorted; “the nuns, and the Abbess herself, would never admit them.  You know better than I do that it is a nunnery.”

“Your children,” said he, “are not necessary to you; Madame de la Valliere managed to leave here for good and all.”

“Yes; and in forsaking them she committed a crime,” I answered; “only ferocious-hearted persons could have counselled her or commanded her to do so.”  And saying this, I rose, and gave him a glance of disdain.