By the next day, the news of my bet had spread a frightful uproar.  The partisans of M. de Vendome, knowing I was no friend to them, took this opportunity to damage me in the eyes of the King.  They so far succeeded that I entirely lost favour with him, without however suspecting it, for more than two months.  All that I could do then, was to let the storm pass over my head and keep silent, so as not to make matters worse.  Meanwhile, M. de Vendome continued the inactive policy he had hitherto followed.  In despite of reiterated advice from the King, he took no steps to attack the enemy.  Monseigneur de Bourgogne was for doing so, but Vendome would make no movement.  As before, too, he contrived to throw all the blame of his inactivity upon Monseigneur de Bourgogne.  He succeeded so well in making this believed, that his followers in the army cried out against the followers of Monseigneur de Bourgogne wherever they appeared.  Chamillart was sent by the King to report upon the state and position of our troops, and if a battle had taken place and proved unfavourable to us, to prevent such sad results as had taken place after Ramillies.  Chamillart came back on the 18th of September.  No battle had been fought, but M. de Vendome felt sure, he said, of cutting off all supplies from the enemy, and thus compelling them to raise the siege.  The King had need of these intervals of consolation and hope.  Master as he might be of his words and of his features, he profoundly felt the powerlessness to resist his enemies that he fell into day by day.  What I have related, about Samuel Bernard, the banker, to whom he almost did the honours of his gardens at Marly, in order to draw from him the assistance he had refused, is a great proof of this.  It was much remarked at Fontainebleau, just as Lille was invested, that, the city of Paris coming to harangue him on the occasion of the oath taken by Bignon, new Prevot des Marchand, he replied, not only with kindness, but that he made use of the term “gratitude for his good city,” and that in doing so he lost countenance,—­two things which during all his reign had never escaped him.  On the other hand, he sometimes had intervals of firmness which edificed less than they surprised.  When everybody at the Court was in the anxiety I have already described, he offended them by going out every day hunting or walking, so that they could not know, until after his return, the news which might arrive when he was out.

As for Monseigneur, he seemed altogether exempt from anxiety.  After Ramillies, when everybody was waiting for the return of Chamillart, to learn the truth, Monseigneur went away to dine at Meudon, saying he should learn the news soon enough.  From this time he showed no more interest in what was passing.  When news was brought that Lille was invested, he turned on his heel before the letter announcing it had been read to the end.  The King called him back to hear the rest.  He returned and heard it.  The reading finished, he went away, without offering a word.  Entering the apartments of the Princesse de Conti, he found there Madame d’Espinoy, who had much property in Flanders, and who had wished to take a trip there.