Prince Eugene, who died very young, very suddenly, very debauched; and full of benefices.  The talk became religious.  She listened some time, and then, with a profound look of conviction, said:  “For my part, I am persuaded that God will think twice about damning a man of such high birth as that!” This caused a burst of laughter, but nothing could make her change her opinion.  Her vanity was cruelly punished.  She used to affect to apologise for having married the Marechal de la Meilleraye.  After his death, being in love with Saint-Ruth, her page, she married him; but took care not to disclose her marriage for fear of losing her distinction at Court.  Saint-Ruth was a very honourable gentleman, very poor, tall, and well made, whom everybody knew; extremely ugly—­I don’t know whether he became so after his marriage.  He was a worthy man and a good soldier.  But he was also a rough customer, and when his distinguished wife annoyed him he twirled his cudgel and belaboured her soundly.  This went so far that the Marechale, not being able to stand it any longer, demanded an audience of the King, admitted her weakness and her shame, and implored his protection.  The King kindly promised to set matters to rights.  He soundly rated Saint-Ruth in his cabinet, and forbade him to ill-treat the Marechale.  But what is bred in the bone will never get out of the flesh.  The Marechale came to make fresh complaints.  The King grew angry in earnest, and threatened Saint-Ruth.  This kept him quiet for some time.  But the habit of the stick was too powerful; and he flourished it again.  The Marechale flew as usual to the King, who, seeing that Saint-Ruth was incorrigible, was good enough to send him to Guyenne under pretence, of employment.  Afterwards he was sent to Ireland; where he was killed.

The Marechale de la Meilleraye had been perfectly beautiful, and was full of wit.  She so turned the head of the Cardinal de Retz, that he wanted to turn everything topsy-turvy in France, in order to make himself, a necessary man and force the King to use his influence at Rome in order to obtain a dispensation by which he (the Cardinal) should be allowed, though a priest—­and a consecrated bishop, to marry the Marechale de la Meilleraye while her husband was alive and she on very good terms with him!  This madness is inconceivable and yet existed.

I have described in its place the disgrace of Cardinal de Bouillon, and the banishment to which he was sentenced.  Exile did not improve him.  He languished in weariness and rage, and saw no hope that his position would ever change.  Incapable of repose, he had passed all his long enforced leisure in a monastic war.  The monks of Cluni were his antagonists.  He was constantly bringing actions against them, which they as constantly defended.  He accused them of revolt—­they accused him of scheming.  They profited by his disgrace, and omitted nothing to shake off the yoke which, when in favour, he had