One day the Queen, after having conversed for half-an-hour with the Prince Egon de Furstemberg,—­[Cardinal Furstemberg, Bishop of Strasbourg.]—­took me aside and said to me, “Did you know what M. de Strasbourg has been saying?  I have not understood him at all.”

A few minutes afterwards the Bishop said to me, “Did your Royal Highness hear what the Queen said to me?  I have not comprehended a single word.”

“Then,” said I, “why did you answer her.”

“I thought,” he replied, “that it would have been indecorous to have appeared not to understand Her Majesty.”

This made me laugh so much that I was obliged precipitately to quit the Chamber.

The Queen died of an abscess under her arm.  Instead of making it burst, Fagon, who was unfortunately then her physician, had her blooded; this drove in the abscess, the disorder attacked her internally, and an emetic, which was administered after her bleeding, had the effect of killing the Queen.

The surgeon who blooded her said, “Have you considered this well, Sir?  It will be the death of my Mistress!”

Fagon replied, “Do as I bid you.”

Gervais, the surgeon, wept, and said to Fagon, “You have resolved, then, that my Mistress shall die by my hand!”

Fagon had her blooded at eleven o’clock; at noon he gave her an emetic, and three hours afterwards she was dead.  It may be truly said that with her died all the happiness of France.  The King was deeply grieved by this event, which that old villain Fagon brought about expressly for the purpose of confirming that mischievous old woman’s fortune.

After the Queen’s death I also happened to have an abscess.  Fagon did all he could to make the King recommend me to be blooded; but I said to him, in His Majesty’s presence, “No, I shall do no such thing.  I shall treat myself according to my own method; and if you had done the same to the Queen she would have been alive now.  I shall suffer the abscess to gather, and then I shall have it opened.”  I did so, and soon got well.

The King said very kindly to me, “Madame, I am afraid you will kill yourself.”

I replied, laughing, “Your Majesty is too good to me, but I am quite satisfied with not having followed my physician’s advice, and you will soon see that I shall do very well.”

After my convalescence I said at table, in presence of my two doctors, Daguin, who was then first physician, and Fagon, who succeeded him upon his being disgraced, “Your Majesty sees that I was right to have my own way; for I am quite well, notwithstanding all the wise sayings and arguments of these gentlemen.”

They were a little confused, but put it off with a laugh; and Fagon said to me,—­

“When folks are as robust as you, Madame, they may venture to risk somewhat.”

I replied, “If I am robust, it is because I never take medicine but on urgent occasions.”