it, and remained confounded himself.  He stammered, he grew confused, he tried to excuse what we had seen, saying that this lackey played very well, and that chess-players played with everybody.  M. de Chevreuse had not come to contradict him; neither had I; we turned the conversation, therefore, and left as soon as possible.  As soon as we were outside we opened our minds to each other, and said what we thought of this rare meeting, which, however, we did not make public.

M. de Rochefoucauld, towards the end of his career at Court, became so importunate, as I have said, for his friends, that the King was much relieved by his death.  Such have been his sentiments at the death of nearly all those whom he had liked and favoured.

Of the courage of M. de la Rochefoucauld, courtier as he was, in speaking to the King, I will relate an instance.  It was during one of the visits at Marly, in the gardens of which the King was amusing himself with a fountain that he set at work.  I know not what led to it, but the King, usually so reserved, spoke with him of the bishop of Saint-Pons, then in disgrace on account of the affairs of Port Royal.  M. de la Rochefoucauld let him speak on to the end, and then began to praise the bishop.  The discouraging silence of the King warned him; he persisted, however, and related how the bishop, mounted upon a mule, and visiting one day his diocese, found himself in a path which grew narrower at every step; and which ended in a precipice.  There were no means of getting out of it except by going back, but this was impossible, there not being enough space to turn round or to alight.  The holy bishop (for such was his term as I well remarked) lifted his eyes to Heaven, let go the bridle, and abandoned himself to Providence.  Immediately his mule rose up upon its hind legs, and thus upright, the bishop still astride, turned round until its head was where its tail had been.  The beast thereupon returned along the path until it found an opening into a good road.  Everybody around the King imitated his silence, which excited the Duke to comment upon what he had just related.  This generosity charmed me, and surprised all who were witness of it.

The day after the death of M. de la Rochefoucauld, the Chancellor took part in a very tragic scene.  A Vice-bailli of Alencon had just lost a trial, in which, apparently, his honour, or his property, was much interested.  He came to Pontchartrain’s, where the Chancellor was at the moment, and waited until he came out into the court to get into his carriage.  The Vice-bailli then asked him for a revision of the verdict.  The Chancellor, with much gentleness and goodness represented to the man that the law courts were open to him if he insisted to appeal, but that as to a revision of the verdict; it was contrary to usage; and turned to get into his coach.  While he was getting in; the unhappy bailli said there was a shorter way of escaping from trouble, and stabbed himself twice with a poniard.  At the dies of the domestics the Chancellor descended from the coach, had the man carried into a room, and sent for a doctor, and a confessor.  The bailli made confession very peacefully, and died an hour afterwards.