She does not become a nun through jealousy of her sister, but from the fear of being tormented by her mother and sister, whom she loves very much, and in this she is right.  She and her sister are not fond of their mother’s favourites, and cannot endure to flatter them.  They have no very reverent notions, either, of their mother’s brother, and this is the cause of dissensions.  I never saw my granddaughter in better spirits than on Sunday last; she was with her sister, on horseback, laughing, and apparently in great glee.  At eight o’clock in the evening her mother arrived; we played until supper; I thought we were afterwards going to play again, but Madame d’Orleans begged me to go into the cabinet with her and Mademoiselle d’Orleans; the child there fell on her knees, and begged my permission, and her mother’s, to go to Chelles to perform her devotions.  I said she might do that anywhere, that the place mattered not, but that all depended upon her own heart, and the preparation which she made.  She, however, persisted in her desire to go to Chelles.  I said to her mother: 

“You must decide whether your daughter shall go to Chelles or not.”

She replied, “We cannot hinder her performing her devotions.”

[In the Memoirs of the time it is said that Mademoiselle de Chartres, being at the Opera with her mother, exclaimed, while Caucherau was singing a very tender air, “Ah! my dear Caucherau!” and that her mother, thinking this rather too expressive, resolved to send her to a convent.]

So yesterday morning at seven o’clock she set off in a coach; she afterwards sent back the carriage, with a letter to her father, her mother, and myself, declaring that she will never more quit that accursed cloister.  Her mother, who has a liking for convents, is not very deeply afflicted; she looks upon it as a great blessing to be a nun, but, for my part, I think it is one of the greatest misfortunes.

My son went yesterday to Chelles, and took with him the Cardinal de Noailles, to try for the last time to bring his daughter away from the convent. (20th July, 1718.)

My heart is full when I think that our poor Mademoiselle d’Orleans has made the profession of her vows.  I said to her all I could, in the hope of diverting her from this diabolical project, but all has been useless. (23rd August, 1718.) I should not have restrained my tears if I had been present at the ceremony of her profession.  My son dreaded it also.  I cannot tell for what reason Mademoiselle d’Orleans resolved to become a nun.  Mademoiselle de Valois wanted to do the same thing, but she could not prevail upon her mother.  In the convent they assume the names of saints.  My granddaughter has taken that of Sister Bathilde; she is of the Benedictine order.

Madame d’Orleans has long wished her daughter to take this step, and it was on her account that the former Abbess, Villars’ sister, was prevailed upon to quit the convent.  He is in the interest of the Duc du Maine.  I do not see, however, that his sister has much to complain of, for they gave her a pension of 12,000 livres until the first abbey should become vacant.  Madame d’Orleans is, however, vexed at the idea of Villars’ sister being obliged to yield to my son’s daughter, which is, nevertheless, as it should be.