That princess was a marvel of wit, of pride, of ingratitude and folly—­ nay, of debauchery and obstinacy.

Scarcely had she been married a week when she began to exhibit herself in all these lights,—­not too manifestly it is true, for one of the qualities of which she was most vain was her falsity and power of concealment, but sufficiently to make an impression on those around her.  People soon perceived how annoyed she was to be the daughter of an illegitimate mother, and to have lived under her restraint however mild; how she despised the weakness of her father, the Duc d’Orleans, and how confident she was of her influence over him; and how she had hated all who had interfered in her marriage—­merely because she could not bear to be under obligations to any one—­a reason she was absurd enough publicly to avow and boast of.  Her conduct was now based on those motives.  This is an example of how in this world people work with their heads in a sack, and how human prudence and wisdom are sometimes confounded by successes which have been reasonably desired and which turn out to be detestable!  We had brought about this marriage to avoid a marriage with Mademoiselle de Bourbon and to cement the union of the two brothers.  We now discovered that there was little danger of Mademoiselle de Bourbon, and then instead of her we had a Fury who had no thought but how to ruin those who had established her, to injure her benefactors, to make her husband and her brother quarrel; and to put herself in the power of her enemies because they were the enemies of her natural friends.  It never occurred to her that the cabal would not be likely to abandon to her the fruit of so much labour and so many crimes.

It may easily be imagined that she was neither gentle nor docile when Madame la Duchesse began to give her advice.  Certain that her father would support her, she played the stranger and the daughter of France with her mother.  Estrangement, however, soon came on.  She behaved differently in form, but in effect the same with the Duchesse de Bourgogne, who wished to guide her as a daughter, but who soon gave up the attempt.  The Duchesse de Berry’s object could only be gained by bringing about disunion between the two brothers, and for this purpose she employed as a spring the passion of her husband for herself.

The first night at Versailles after the death of Monseigneur was sleepless.  The Dauphin and Dauphine heard mass early next morning.  I went to see them.  Few persons were present on account of the hour.  The Princess wished to be at Marly at the King’s waking.  Their eyes were wonderfully dry, but carefully managed; and it was easy to see they were more occupied with their new position than with the death of Monseigneur.  A smile which they exchanged as they spoke, in whispers convinced me of this.  One of their first cares was to endeavour to increase their good relations with the Duc and Duchesse de Berry.  They were to see them before they were up.  The Duc de Berry showed himself very sensible to this act, and the Duchess was eloquent, clever, and full of tears.  But her heart was wrung by these advances of pure generosity.  The separation she had planned soon followed:  and the two princesses felt relieved at no longer being obliged to dine together.