As I was going home, I saw the Duchesse d’Orleans walking on a terrace.  She called to me; but I pretended not to notice her, because La Montauban was with her, and hastened home, my mind filled with this news, and withdrew to my cabinet.  Almost immediately afterwards Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans joined me there.  We were bursting to speak to each other alone, upon a point on which our thoughts were alike.  She had left Meudon not an hour before, and she had the same tale to tell as the Chancellor.  Everybody was at ease there she said; and then she extolled the care and capacities of the doctors, exaggerating their success; and, to speak frankly and to our shame, she and I lamented together to see Monseigneur, in spite of his age and his fat, escape from so dangerous an illness.  She reflected seriously but wittily, that after an illness of this sort, apoplexy was not to be looked for; that an attack of indigestion was equally unlikely to arise, considering the care Monseigneur had taken not to over-gorge himself since his recent danger; and we concluded more than dolefully, that henceforth we must make up our minds that the Prince would live and reign for a long time.  In a word, we let ourselves loose in this rare conversation, although not without an occasional scruple of conscience which disturbed it.  Madame de Saint-Simon all devoutly tried what she could to put a drag upon our tongues, but the drag broke, so to speak, and we continued our free discourse, humanly speaking very reasonable on our parts, but which we felt, nevertheless, was not according to religion.  Thus two hours passed, seemingly very short.  Madame d’Orleans went away, and I repaired with Madame de Saint-Simon to receive a numerous company.

While thus all was tranquillity at Versailles, and even at Meudon, everything had changed its aspect at the chateau.  The King had seen Monseigneur several times during the day; but in his after-dinner visit he was so much struck with the extraordinary swelling of the face and of the head, that he shortened his stay, and on leaving the chateau, shed tears.  He was reassured as much as possible, and after the council he took a walk in the garden.

Nevertheless Monseigneur had already mistaken Madame la Princesse de Conti for some one else; and Boudin, the doctor, was alarmed.  Monseigneur himself had been so from the first, and he admitted, that for a long time before being attacked, he had been very unwell, and so much on Good Friday, that he had been unable to read his prayer-book at chapel.

Towards four o’clock he grew worse, so much so that Boudin proposed to Fagon to call in other doctors, more familiar with the disease than they were.  But Fagon flew into a rage at this, and would call in nobody.  He declared that it would be better to act for themselves, and to keep Monseigneur’s state secret, although it was hourly growing worse, and towards seven o’clock was perceived by several valets and courtiers.  But nobody dared to open his mouth before Fagon, and the King was actually allowed to go to supper and to finish it without interruption, believing on the faith of Fagon that Monseigneur was going on well.