He sought to be heard, and was heard.  At last he faced the danger of the Swiss, and on fine nights was seen with the Duchess in the gardens.  Nangis diminished in favour.  Maulevrier on his return increased in fury.  The Abbe met with the same fate as they:  everything was perceived:  people talked about the matter in whispers, but silence was kept.  This triumph, in spite of his age, did not satisfy the Abbe:  he aimed at something more solid.  He wished to arrive at the cardinalship, and to further his views he thought it advisable to ingratiate himself into the favour of Monsieur de Bourgogne.  He sought introduction to them through friends of mine, whom I warned against him as a man without scruple, and intent only upon advancing himself.  My warnings were in vain.  My friends would not heed me, and the Abbe de Polignac succeeded in gaining the confidence of Monsieur de Bourgogne, as well as the favour of Madame de Bourgogne.

Maulevrier had thus two sources of annoyance—­the Abbe de Polignac and Nangis.  Of the latter he showed himself so jealous, that Madame de Maulevrier, out of pique, made advances to him.  Nangis, to screen himself the better, replied to her.  Maulevrier perceived this.  He knew his wife to be sufficiently wicked to make him fear her.  So many troubles of heart and brain transported him.  He lost his head.

One day the Marechale de Coeuvres came to see him, apparently on some message of reconciliation.  He shut the door upon her; barricaded her within, and through the door quarrelled with her, even to abuse, for an hour, during which she had the patience to remain there without being able to see him.  After this he went rarely to Court, but generally kept himself shut up at home.

Sometimes he would go out all alone at the strangest hours, take a fiacre and drive away to the back of the Chartreux or to other remote spots.  Alighting there, he would whistle, and a grey-headed old man would advance and give him a packet, or one would be thrown to him from a window, or he would pick up a box filled with despatches, hidden behind a post.  I heard of these mysterious doings from people to whom he was vain and indiscreet enough to boast of them.  He continually wrote letters to Madame de Bourgogne, and to Madame de Maintenon, but more frequently to the former.  Madame Cantin was their agent; and I know people who have seen letters of hers in which she assured Maulevrier, in the strongest terms, that he might ever reckon on the Duchess.

He made a last journey to Versailles, where he saw his mistress in private, and quarrelled with her cruelly.  After dining with Torcy he returned to Paris.  There, torn by a thousand storms of love, of jealousy, of ambition, his head was so troubled that doctors were obliged to be called in, and he was forbidden to see any but the most indispensable persons, and those at the hours when he was least ill.  A hundred visions passed through his brain.  Now like a