It is not true that the Duc du Maine has permission to hunt; he is only allowed to ride upon a hired horse round the citadel, to take the air, in the company of four persons.

The Abbe de Maulevrier and Mademoiselle de Langeron persuaded the Princess that Madame du Maine was at the point of death, and was only desirous of seeing her dear mother before she expired, to receive her last benediction, as she should die innocent.  The Princess immediately set out in great anxiety and with deep grief; but was strangely surprised, on arriving at her daughter’s house, to see her come to meet her in very good health.  Mademoiselle de Langeron said that the Duchess concealed her illness that she might not make her mother unhappy.

After the confession which Madame du Maine thought proper to make, which she has confirmed by writing, my son has set her at liberty, and has permitted her to come to Sceaux.  She is terribly mortified at her letter being read in the open Council.  As she has declared in her confession that she had done everything without her husband’s knowledge, although in his name, he, too, has been permitted to return to his estate of Chavigny, near Versailles.

Madame du Maine had written to my son that, in the event of her having omitted anything in her declaration, he would only have to ask Mademoiselle de Launay about it.  He sent in consequence for that lady, to ask her some questions.  Mademoiselle de Launay replied:  “I do not know whether her imprisonment may have turned my mistress’s brain, but it has not had the same effect upon me; I neither know, nor will I say anything.”

Madame du Maine had gained over certain gentlemen in all the Provinces, and had tampered with them to induce them to revolt; but none of them would swallow the bait excepting in Brittany.

She has not been at the theatre yet; meaning, by this, to intimate that she is still afflicted at lying under her husband’s displeasure.  It is said that she has written to him, but that he has returned her letter unopened.

She came some days ago to see my son, and to request him not to oppose a reconciliation between herself and her husband.  My son laughed and said, “I will not interfere in it; for have I not learned from Sganarelle that it is not wise to put one’s finger between the bark and the tree?” The town says they will be reconciled.  If this really should take place, I shall say as my father used:  “Agree together, bad ones!”

My son tells me that the little Duchess has again besought him to reconcile her with her husband.  My son replied, “that it depended much more upon herself than upon him.”  I do not know whether she took this for a compliment, or what crotchet she got in her head, but she suddenly jumped up from the sofa, and clung about my son’s neck, kissing him on both cheeks in spite of himself (18th June, 1720).

The Duc du Maine is entirely reconciled to his dear moiety.  I am not surprised, for I have been long expecting it.