My apartments at Mont Louis being small, and the situation of the alcove charming, I conducted the prince to it, where, to complete the condescension he was pleased to show me, he chose I should have the honor of playing with him a game of chess.  I knew he beat the Chevalier de Lorenzy, who played better than I did.  However, notwithstanding the signs and grimace of the chevalier and the spectators, which I feigned not to see, I won the two games we played:  When they were ended, I said to him in a respectful but very grave manner:  “My lord, I honor your serene highness too much not to beat you always at chess.”  This great prince, who had real wit, sense, and knowledge, and so was worthy not to be treated with mean adulation, felt in fact, at least I think so, that I was the only person present who treated him like a man, and I have every reason to believe he was not displeased with me for it.

Had this even been the case, I should not have reproached myself with having been unwilling to deceive him in anything, and I certainly cannot do it with having in my heart made an ill return for his goodness, but solely with having sometimes done it with an ill grace, whilst he himself accompanied with infinite gracefulness the manner in which he showed me the marks of it.  A few days afterwards he ordered a hamper of game to be sent me, which I received as I ought.  This in a little time was succeeded by another, and one of his gamekeepers wrote me, by order of his highness, that the game it contained had been shot by the prince himself.  I received this second hamper, but I wrote to Madam de Boufflers that I would not receive a third.  This letter was generally blamed, and deservedly so.  Refusing to accept presents of game from a prince of the blood, who moreover sends it in so polite a manner, is less the delicacy of a haughty man, who wishes to preserve his independence, than the rusticity of a clown, who does not know himself.  I have never read this letter in my collection without blushing and reproaching myself for having written it.  But I have not undertaken my Confession with an intention of concealing my faults, and that of which I have just spoken is too shocking in my own eyes to suffer me to pass it over in silence.

If I were not guilty of the offence of becoming his rival I was very near doing it; for Madam de Boufflers was still his mistress, and I knew nothing of the matter.  She came rather frequently to see me with the Chevalier de Lorenzy.  She was yet young and beautiful, affected to be whimsical, and my mind was always romantic, which was much of the same nature.  I was near being laid hold of; I believe she perceived it; the chevalier saw it also, at least he spoke to me upon the subject, and in a manner not discouraging.  But I was this time reasonable, and at the age of fifty it was time I should be so.  Full of the doctrine I had just preached to graybeards in my letter to D’Alembert, I should have been ashamed of