gratitude for what I had done.  She exhibited, too, so much intelligence, good sense, and ability, in the conversation I had with her, that I determined to spare no pains to unite her husband to her more closely; being firmly persuaded that he would nowhere find a better counsellor than in her.  The surprise of the whole Court, when it became known that M. d’Orleans had at last separated himself from Madame d’Argenton, was great indeed.  It was only equalled by the vexation of those who were opposed to him.  Of course in this matter I was not spared.  For several days nothing was spoken of but this rupture, and everywhere I was pointed out as the author of it,

Besons being scarcely alluded to.  I parried the thrust made at me as well as I could, as much for the purpose of leaving all the honour to M. d’Orleans, as for the purpose of avoiding the anger of those who were annoyed with me; and also from a just fear of showing that I had too much influence over the mind of a Prince not without faults, and who could not always be led.

As for Madame d’Argenton, she received the news that her reign was over with all the consternation, rage, and despair that might have been expected.  Mademoiselle de Chausseraye was sent by Madame de Maintenon to announce the ill news to her.  When Mademoiselle de Chausseraye arrived at Madame l’Argenton’s house, Madame d’Argenton was out she had gone to supper with the Princesse de Rohan.  Mademoiselle de Chausseraye waited until she returned, and then broke the matter to her gently, and after much preamble and circumlocution, as though she were about to announce the death of some one.

The tears, the cries, the howlings of Madame d’Argenton filled the house, and announced to all the domestics that the reign of felicity was at an end there.  After a long silence on the part of Mademoiselle de Chausseraye, she spoke her best in order to appease the poor lady.  She represented to her the delicacy and liberality of the arrangements M. d’Orleans had made in her behalf.  In the first place she was free to live in any part of the, realm except Paris and its appanages.  In the next place he assured to her forty-five thousand livres a year, nearly all the capital of which would belong to the son he had had by her, whom he had recognised and made legitimate, and who has since become Grandee of Spain, Grand Prieur of France, and General of the Galleys (for the best of all conditions in France is to have none at all, and to be a bastard).  Lastly he undertook to pay all her debts up to the day of the rupture, so that she should not be importuned by any creditor, and allowed her to retain her jewellery, her plate, her furniture—­worth altogether about four hundred thousand livres.  His liberality amounted to a total of about two million livres, which I thought prodigious.