her away from the chateau he inquired particularly after her!  This, to say the least, looked as though Mademoiselle Choin was Monseigneur’s Maintenon—­but the matter remained incomprehensible to the last.  Mademoiselle Choin threw no light upon it, although she spoke on many other things concerning Monseigneur.  In the modest home at Paris, to which she had retired for the rest of her days.  The King gave her a pension of twelve thousand livres.

Monseigneur was, I have said, ignorant to the last degree, and had a thorough aversion for learning; so that, according to his own admission, ever since he had been released from the hands of teachers he had never read anything except the article in the “Gazette de France,” in which deaths and marriages are recorded.  His timidity, especially before the King, was equal to his ignorance, which indeed contributed not a little to cause it.  The King took advantage of it, and never treated him as a son, but as a subject.  He was the monarch always, never the father.  Monseigneur had not the slightest influence with the King.  If he showed any preference for a person it was enough!  That person was sure to be kept back by the King.  The King was so anxious to show that Monseigneur could do nothing, that Monseigneur after a time did not even try.  He contented himself by complaining occasionally in monosyllables, and by hoping for better times.

The body of Monseigneur so soon grew decomposed; that immediate burial was necessary.  At midnight on Wednesday he was carried, with but little ceremony, to Saint-Denis, and deposited in the royal vaults.  His funeral services were said at Saint-Denis on the 18th of the following June, and at Notre Dame on the 3rd of July.  As the procession passed through Paris nothing but cries, acclamations, and eulogiums of the defunct were heard.  Monseigneur had, I know not how, much endeared himself to the common people of Paris, and this sentiment soon gained the provinces; so true it is, that in France it costs little to its Princes to make themselves almost adored!

The King soon got over his affliction for the loss of this son of fifty.  Never was a man so ready with tears, so backward with grief, or so promptly restored to his ordinary state.  The morning after the death of Monseigneur he rose late, called M. de Beauvilliers into his cabinet, shed some more tears, and then said that from that time Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne and Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne were to enjoy the honours, the rank, and the name of Dauphin and of Dauphine.  Henceforth I shall call them by no other names.

My joy at this change may be imagined.  In a few days all my causes of disquietude had been removed, and I saw a future opening before me full of light and promise.  Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne become Dauphin, heir to the throne of France; what favour might I not hope for?  I could not conceal or control my satisfaction.