Wrapped up thus in myself, I did not fail, nevertheless, to cast clandestine looks upon each face, to see what was passing there.  I saw Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans arrive, but her countenance, majestic and constrained, said nothing.  She went into the little cabinet, whence she presently issued with the Duc d’Orleans, whose activity and turbulent air marked his emotion at the spectacle more than any other sentiment.  They went away, and I notice this expressly, on account of what happened afterwards in my presence.

Soon afterwards I caught a distant glimpse of the Duc de Bourgogne, who seemed much moved and troubled; but the glance with which I probed him rapidly, revealed nothing tender, and told merely of a mind profoundly occupied with the bearings of what had taken place.

Valets and chamber-women were already indiscreetly crying out; and their grief showed well that they were about to lose something!

Towards half-past twelve we had news of the King, and immediately after Madame de Bourgogne came out of the little cabinet with the Duke, who seemed more touched than when I first saw him.  The Princess took her scarf and her coifs from the toilette, standing with a deliberate air, her eyes scarcely wet—­a fact betrayed by inquisitive glances cast rapidly to the right and left—­and, followed only by her ladies, went to her coach by the great staircase.

I took the opportunity to go to the Duchesse d’Orleans, where I found many people.  Their presence made me very impatient; the Duchess, who was equally impatient, took a light and went in.  I whispered in the ear of the Duchesse de Villeroy, who thought as I thought of this event.  She nudged me, and said in a very low voice that I must contain myself.  I was smothered with silence, amidst the complaints and the narrative surprises of these ladies; but at last M. le Duc d’Orleans appeared at the door of his cabinet, and beckoned me to come to him.

I followed him into the cabinet, where we were alone.  What was my surprise, remembering the terms on which he was with Monseigneur, to see the tears streaming from his eyes.

“Sir!” exclaimed I, rising:  He understood me at once; and answered in a broken voice, really crying:  “You are right to be surprised—­I am surprised myself; but such a spectacle touches.  He was a man with whom I passed much of my life, and who treated me well when he was uninfluenced.  I feel very well that my grief won’t last long; in a few days I shall discover motives of joy; at present, blood, relationship, humanity,—­all work; and my entrails are moved.”  I praised his sentiments, but repeated my surprise.  He rose, thrust his head into a corner, and with his nose there, wept bitterly and sobbed, which if I had not seen I could not have believed.

After a little silence, however, I exhorted him to calm himself.  I represented to him that, everybody knowing on what terms he had been with Monseigneur, he would be laughed at, as playing a part, if his eyes showed that he had been weeping.  He did what he could to remove the marks of his tears, and we then went back into the other room.