The Queen had one certain means of making the King do whatever she wished.  The good gentleman was exceedingly fond of her, and this fondness she turned to good account.  She had a small truckle-bed in her room, and when the King would not comply with any of her requests she used to make him sleep in this bed; but when she was pleased with him he was admitted to her own bed; which was the very summit of happiness to the poor King.  After the Princesse des Ursins had departed, the King recalled the Confessor from Rome, and kept him near his own person (1718).

The King of Spain can never forgive, and Madame des Ursins has told him so many lies to my son’s disadvantage that the King can never, while he lives, be reconciled to him.

Rebenac’s—­[Francois de Feuquieres, Called the Comte de Rebenac, Extraordinary Ambassador to Spain.]—­passion for the late Queen of Spain was of no disadvantage to her; she only laughed at it, and did not care for him.  It was the Comte de Mansfeld, the man with the pointed nose, who poisoned her.  He bought over two of her French femmes de chambre to give her poison in raw oysters; and they afterwards withheld from her the antidote which had been entrusted to their care.

The Queen of Spain, daughter of the first Madame,—­[Henrietta of England.]—­died in precisely the same manner as she did, and at the same age, but in a much more painful manner, for the violence of the poison was such as to make her nails fall off.

SECTION XXV.—­THE DUCHESSE LOUISE-FRANCISQUE, CONSORT OF LOUIS III., DUC DE BOURBON.

I knew a German gentleman who has now been dead a long time (1718), who has sworn to me positively that the Duchess is not the daughter of the King, but of Marechal de Noailles.  He noted the time at which he saw the Marshal go into Montespan’s apartment, and it was precisely nine months from that time that the Duchess came into the world.  This German, whose name was Bettendorf, was a brigadier in the Body Guard; and he was on guard at Montespan’s when the captain of the first company paid this visit to the King’s mistress.

The Duchess is not prettier than her daughters, but she has more grace; her manners are more fascinating and agreeable; her wit shines in her eyes, but there is some malignity in them also.  I always say she is like a very pretty cat, which, while you play with it, lets you feel it has claws.  No person has a better carriage of the head.  It is impossible to dance better than the Duchess and her daughters can; but the mother dances the best.  I do not know how it is, but even her lameness is becoming to her.  The Duchess has the talent of saying things in so pleasant a manner that one cannot help laughing.  She is very amusing and uncommonly good company; her notions are so very comical.  When she wishes to make herself agreeable to any one she is very insinuating, and can take all shapes;