Every kind of decency and decorum centred themselves in her, and the most exquisite pride was there upon its throne.  Astonishment will be felt at what I am going to say, and yet, however, nothing is more strictly true:  it is, that at the bottom of her soul she believed that she, bastard of the King, had much honoured M. d’Orleans in marrying him!  M. le Duc d’Orleans often laughed at her pride, called her Madame Lucifer, in speaking to her, and she admitted that the name did not displease her.  She always received his advances with coldness, and a sort of superiority of greatness.  She was a princess to the backbone, at all hours, and in all places.  Yet, at the same time, her timidity was extreme.  The King could have made her feel ill with a single severe look; and Madame de Maintenon could have done likewise, perhaps.  At all events, Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans trembled before her; and upon the most commonplace matters never replied to either him or her without hesitation, fear printed on her face.

M. le Duc and Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans lived an idle, languishing, shameful, indecent, and despised life, abandoned by all the Court.  This, I felt, was one of the first things that must be remedied.  Accordingly, I induced Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans to make an effort to attract people to her table.  She did so, persevering against the coldness and aversion she met with, and in time succeeded in drawing a tolerably numerous company to her dinners.  They were of exquisite quality, and people soon got over their first hesitation, when they found everything orderly, free, and unobjectionable.  At these dinners, M. d’Orleans kept within bounds, not only in his discourse, but in his behaviour.  But oftentimes his ennui led him to Paris, to join in supper parties and debauchery.  Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans tried to draw him from these pleasures by arranging small parties at her pretty little villa, l’Etoile (in the park of Versailles), which the King had given to her, and which she had furnished in the most delightful manner.  She loved good cheer, the guests loved it also, and at table she was altogether another person —­free, gay, exciting, charming.  M. le Duc d’Orleans cared for nothing but noise, and as he threw off all restraint at these parties, there was much difficulty in selecting guests, for the ears of many people would have been much confused at his loose talk, and their eyes much astonished to see him get drunk at the very commencement of the repast, in the midst of those who thought only of amusing and recreating themselves in a decent manner, and who never approached intoxication.

As the King became weaker in health, and evidently drew near his end, I had continued interviews with Madame d’Orleans upon the subject of the Regency, the plan of government to be adopted, and the policy she should follow.  Hundreds of times before we had reasoned together upon the faults of the Government, and the misfortunes that resulted from them.  What we had to do was to avoid those faults, educate the young King in good and rational maxims, so that when he succeeded to power he might continue what the Regency had not had time to finish.  This, at least, was my idea; and I laboured hard to make it the idea of M. le Duc d’Orleans.  As the health of the King diminished I entered more into details; as I will explain.