When the hubbub of the courtiers had subsided, the two other sons of France, brothers of M. d’Anjou, arrived, and all three embraced one another tenderly several times, with tears in their eyes.  The ambassador of the Emperor immediately entered, little suspecting what had taken place, and was confounded when he learned the news.  The King afterwards went to mass, during which at his right hand was the new King of Spain, who during the rest of his stay in France, was publicly treated in every respect as a sovereign, by the King and all the Court.

The joy of Monseigneur at all this was very great.  He seemed beside himself, and continually repeated that no man had ever found himself in a condition to say as he could, “The King my father, and the King my son.”  If he had known the prophecy which from his birth had been said of him, “A King’s son, a King’s father, and never a King,” which everybody had heard repeated a thousand times, I think he would not have so much rejoiced, however vain may be such prophecies.  The King himself was so overcome, that at supper he turned to the Spanish ambassador and said that the whole affair seemed to him like a dream.  In public, as I have observed, the new King of Spain was treated in every respect as a sovereign, but in private he was still the Duc d’Anjou.  He passed his evenings in the apartments of Madame de Maintenon, where he played at all sorts of children’s games, scampering to and fro with Messeigneurs his brothers, with Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, and with the few ladies to whom access was permitted.

On Friday, the 19th of November, the new King of Spain put on mourning.  Two days after, the King did the same.  On Monday, the 22nd, letters were received from the Elector of Bavaria, stating that the King of Spain had been proclaimed at Brussels with much rejoicing and illuminations.  On Sunday, the 28th, M. Vaudemont, governor of the Milanese, sent word that he had been proclaimed in that territory, and with the same demonstrations of joy as at Brussels.

On Saturday, the 4th of December, the King of Spain set out for his dominions.  The King rode with him in his coach as far as Sceaux, surrounded in pomp by many more guards than usual, gendarmes and light horse, all the road covered with coaches and people; and Sceaux, where they arrived a little after midday, full of ladies and courtiers, guarded by two companies of Musketeers.  There was a good deal of leave-taking, and all the family was collected alone in the last room of the apartment; but as the doors were left open, the tears they shed so bitterly could be seen.  In presenting the King of Spain to the Princes of the blood, the King said—­“Behold the Princes of my blood and of yours; the two nations from this time ought to regard themselves as one nation; they ought to have the same interests; therefore I wish these Princes to be attached to you as to me; you cannot have friends more faithful or more certain.”  All this lasted a good hour and a half.  But the time of separation at last came.  The King conducted the King of Spain to the end of the apartment, and embraced him several times, holding him a long while in. his arms.  Monseigneur did the same.  The spectacle was extremely touching.