With all her wealth she has left my son 400,000 livres of debt to pay.  This poor Princess was horribly robbed and pillaged.  You may imagine what a race these favourites are; Mouchi, who enjoyed the greatest favour, did not grieve for her mistress a single moment; she was playing the flute at her window on the very day that the Princess was borne to St. Denis, and went to a large dinner party in Paris, where she ate and drank as if nothing had happened, at the same time talking in so impertinent a manner as disgusted all the guests.  My son desired her and her husband to quit Paris.

My son’s affliction is so much the greater since he perceives that, if he had been less complying with his beloved daughter, and if he had exercised somewhat more of a parent’s authority, she would have been alive and well at this time.

That Mouchi and her lover Riom have been playing fine tricks; they had duplicate keys, and left the poor Duchess without a sou.  I cannot conceive what there is to love in this Riom; he has neither face nor figure; he looks, with his green-and-yellow complexion, like a water fiend; his mouth, nose and eyes are like those of a Chinese.  He is more like a baboon than a Gascon, which he is.  He is a very dull person, without the least pretensions to wit; he has a large head, which is sunk between a pair of very broad shoulders, and his appearance is that of a low-minded person; in short, he is a very ugly rogue.

And yet the toad does not come of bad blood; he is related to some of the best families.  The Duc de Lauzun is his uncle, and Biron his nephew.  He is, nevertheless, unworthy of the honour which was conferred on him; for he was only a captain in the King’s Guard.  The women all ran after him; but, for my part, I find him extremely disagreeable; he has an unhealthy air and looks like one of the Indian figures upon a screen.

He was not here when Madame de Berri died, but was with the army, in the regiment which had been bought for him.  When the news of the Duchess’s death reached him the Prince de Conti went to seek Riom, and sang a ridiculous song, my son was a little vexed at this, but he did not take any notice of it.

There can be no doubt that the Duchess was secretly married to Riom; this has consoled me in some degree for her loss.  I had heard it said before, and I made a representation upon the subject to my granddaughter.

She laughed, and replied:  “Ah, Madame, I thought I had the honour of being so well known to you that you could not believe me guilty of so great a folly; I who am so much blamed for my pride.”

This answer lulled my suspicions, and I no longer believed the story.  The father and mother would never have consented to this marriage; and even if they had sanctioned such an impertinence I never would!