While upon the subject of the King, let me relate an anecdote of him, which should have found a place ere this.  When M. d’Orleans was about to start for Spain, he named the officers who were to be of his suite.  Amongst others was Fontpertius.  At that name the King put on a serious look.

“What! my nephew,” he said.  “Fontpertius! the son of a Jansenist—­of that silly woman who ran everywhere after M. Arnould!  I do not wish that man to go with you.”

“By my faith, Sire,” replied the Duc d’Orleans, “I know not what the mother has done; but as for the son, he is far enough from being a Jansenist, I’ll answer for it; for he does not believe in God.”

“Is it possible, my nephew?” said the King, softening.

“Nothing more certain, Sire, I assure you.”

“Well, since it is so,” said the King, “there is no harm:  you can take him with you.”

This scene—­for it can be called by no other name—­took place in the morning.  After dinner M. d’Orleans repeated it to me, bursting with laughter, word for word, just as I have written it.  When we had both well laughed at this, we admired the profound instruction of a discreet and religious King, who considered it better not to believe in God than to be a Jansenist, and who thought there was less danger to his nephew from the impiety of an unbeliever than from the doctrines of a sectarian.  M. d’Orleans could not contain himself while he told the story, and never spoke of it without laughing until the tears came into his eyes.  It ran all through the Court and all over the town, and the marvellous thing was, that the King was not angry at this.  It was a testimony of his attachment to the good doctrine which withdrew him further and further from Jansenism.  The majority of people laughed with all their heart.  Others, more wise, felt rather disposed to weep than to laugh, in considering to what excess of blindness the King had reached.

For a long time a most important project had knocked at every door, without being able to obtain a hearing anywhere.  The project was this:—­ Hough, an English gentleman full of talent and knowledge, and who, above all, knew profoundly the laws of his country, had filled various posts in England.  As first a minister by profession, and furious against King James; afterwards a Catholic and King James’s spy, he had been delivered up to King William, who pardoned him.  He profited by this only to continue his services to James.  He was taken several times, and always escaped from the Tower of London and other prisons.  Being no longer able to dwell in England he came to France, where he occupied himself always with the same line of business, and was paid for that by the King (Louis XIV.) and by King James, the latter of whom he unceasingly sought to re-establish.  The union of Scotland with England appeared to him a favourable conjuncture, by the despair of that ancient kingdom at seeing itself reduced into a province under