But I had felt that it was necessary to act vigorously, and pressed the Duc d’Orleans to speak to the King.  To my surprise he suddenly heaped up objections, derived from the public disasters, with which a princely marriage would contrast disagreeably.  The Duchesse d’Orleans was strangely staggered by this admission; it only angered me.  I answered by repeating all my arguments.  At last he gave way, and agreed to write to the King.  Here, again, I had many difficulties to overcome, and was obliged, in fact, to write the letter myself, and dictate it to him.  He made one or two changes; and at last signed and sealed it.  But I had the greatest difficulty yet in inciting him to give it to the King.  I had to follow him, to urge him, to pique him, almost to push him into the presence.  The King received the letter very graciously; it had its effect; and the marriage was resolved on.

When the preliminaries were settled, the Duc and Duchesse d’Orleans began to show their desire that Madame de Saint-Simon should be lady of honour to their daughter when she had become the Duchesse de Berry.  I was far from flattered by this distinction and refused as best I might.  Madame de Saint-Simon went to have an audience of the Duchesse de Bourgogne, and asked not to be appointed; but her objections were not listened to, or listened to with astonishment.  Meanwhile I endeavoured to bring about a reconciliation of the Duc d’Orleans with La Choin; but utterly failed.  La Choin positively refused to have anything to do with the Duke and Duchess.  I was much embarrassed to communicate this news to them, to whom I was attached.  It was necessary; however, to do so.  I hastened to Saint-Cloud, and found the Duc and Duchesse d’Orleans at table with Mademoiselle and some ladies in a most delightful menagerie, adjoining the railing of the avenue near the village, with a charming pleasure-garden attached to it.  All this belonged, under the name of Mademoiselle, to Madame de Mare, her governess.  I sat down and chatted with them; but the impatience of the Duc d’Orleans to learn the news could not be checked.  He asked me if I was very satisfied.  “Middling,” I replied, not to spoil his dinner; but he rose at once and took me into the garden.  He was much affected to hear of the ill-success of my negotiation; and returned downcast to table.  I took the first opportunity to blame his impatience, and the facility with which he allowed the impressions he received to appear.  Always in extreme, he said he cared not; and talked wildly of planting cabbages—­talk in which he indulged often without meaning anything.