become developed in her to perfection if its growth had not been interrupted by the ill-humour she possessed; which it must be admitted the life she led was more than enough to give her.  She felt her talent and her strength, but did not feel the fatuity and pride which weakened them and rendered them ridiculous.  The current of her life was simple, smooth, with a natural gaiety even, which sparkled through the eternal restraint of her existence; and despite the ill-temper and the sharpness which this restraint without rest gave her, she was a woman ordinarily without pretension, and really charming.

When she arrived in Spain she was sure, in the first place, of driving away Madame des Ursins, and of filling-her place in the government at once.  She seized that place, and took possession also of the King’s mind, which she soon entirely ruled.  As to public business, nothing could be hidden from her.  The King always worked in her presence, never otherwise; all that he saw alone she read and discussed with him.  She was always present at all the private audiences that he gave, whether to his subjects or to the foreign ministers; so that, as I have before remarked, nothing possibly could escape her.

As for the King, the eternal night and day tete-a-tete she had with him enabled her to sound him thoroughly, to know him by heart, so to speak.  She knew perfectly the time for preparatory insinuations, their success; the resistance, when there was any, its course and how to overcome it; the moments for yielding, in order to return afterwards to the charge, and those for holding firm and carrying everything by force.  She stood in need of all these intrigues, notwithstanding her credit with the King.  If I may dare to say it, his temperament was her strong point, and she sometimes had recourse to it.  Then her coldness excited tempests.  The King cried and menaced; now and then went further; she held firm, wept, and sometimes defended herself.  In the morning all was stormy.  The immediate attendants acted towards King and Queen often without penetrating the cause of their quarrel.  Peace was concluded at the first opportunity, rarely to the disadvantage of the Queen, who mostly had her own way.

A quarrel of this sort arose when I was at Madrid; and I was advised, after hearing details I will not repeat, to mix myself up in it, but I burst out laughing and took good care not to follow this counsel.

CHAPTER CXI.

The chase was every day the amusement of the King, and the Queen was obliged to make it hers.  But it was always the same.  Their Catholic Majesties did me the singular honour to invite me to it once, and I went in my coach.  Thus I saw this pleasure well, and to see it once is to see it always.  Animals to shoot are not met with in the plains.  They must be sought for among the mountains,—­and there the ground is too rugged for hunting the stag,