But the supply of water for the fountains was all defective at all moments, in spite of those seas of reservoirs which had cost so many millions to establish and to form upon the shifting sand and marsh.  Who could have believed it?  This defect became the ruin of the infantry which was turned out to do the work.  Madame de Maintenon reigned.  M. de Louvois was well with her, then.  We were at peace.  He conceived the idea of turning the river Eure between Chartres and Maintenon, and of making it come to Versailles.  Who can say what gold and men this obstinate attempt cost during several years, until it was prohibited by the heaviest penalties, in the camp established there, and for a long time kept up; not to speak of the sick,—­above all, of the dead,—­that the hard labour and still more the much disturbed earth, caused?  How many men were years in recovering from the effects of the contagion!  How many never regained their health at all!  And not only the sub-officers, but the colonels, the brigadiers and general officers, were compelled to be upon the spot, and were not at liberty to absent themselves a quarter of an hour from the works.  The war at last interrupted them in 1688, and they have never since been undertaken; only unfinished portions of them exist which will immortalise this cruel folly.

At last, the King, tired of the cost and bustle, persuaded himself that he should like something little and solitary.  He searched all around Versailles for some place to satisfy this new taste.  He examined several neighbourhoods, he traversed the hills near Saint-Germain, and the vast plain which is at the bottom, where the Seine winds and bathes the feet of so many towns, and so many treasures in quitting Paris.  He was pressed to fix himself at Lucienne, where Cavoye afterwards had a house, the view from which is enchanting; but he replied that, that fine situation would ruin him, and that as he wished to go to no expense, so he also wished a situation which would not urge him into any.  He found behind Lucienne a deep narrow valley, completely shut in, inaccessible from its swamps, and with a wretched village called Marly upon the slope of one of its hills.  This closeness, without drain or the means of having any, was the sole merit of the valley.  The King was overjoyed at his discovery.  It was a great work, that of draining this sewer of all the environs, which threw there their garbage, and of bringing soil thither!  The hermitage was made.  At first, it was only for sleeping in three nights, from Wednesday to Saturday, two or three times a-year, with a dozen at the outside of courtiers, to fill the most indispensable posts.