his, in a few words, is the history of
our connection, and what I know of his adventures; but while I mourn the
fate of the unhappy young man, I still, and ever shall, believe he was
the son of people of distinction, and the impropriety of his conduct was
the effect of the situations to which he was reduced.

Such were the connections and acquaintance I acquired at Motiers. How
many of these would have been necessary to compensate the cruel losses I
suffered at the same time.

The first of these was that of M. de Luxembourg, who, after having been
long tormented by the physicians, at length became their victim, by being
treated for the gout which they would not acknowledge him to have, as for
a disorder they thought they could cure.

According to what La Roche, the confidential servant of Madam de
Luxembourg, wrote to me relative to what had happened, it is by this
cruel and memorable example that the miseries of greatness are to be
deplored.

The loss of this good nobleman afflicted me the more, as he was the only
real friend I had in France, and the mildness of his character was such
as to make me quite forget his rank, and attach myself to him as his
equal. Our connection was not broken off on account of my having quitted
the kingdom; he continued to write to me as usual.

I nevertheless thought I perceived that absence, or my misfortune, had
cooled his affection for me. It is difficult to a courtier to preserve
the same attachment to a person whom he knows to be in disgrace with
courts. I moreover suspected the great ascendancy Madam de Luxembourg
had over his mind, had been unfavorable to me, and that she had taken
advantage of our separation to injure me in his esteem. For her part,
notwithstanding a few affected marks of regard, which daily became less
frequent, she less concealed the change in her friendship. She wrote to
me four or five times into Switzerland, after which she never wrote to me
again, and nothing but my prejudice, confidence and blindness, could have
prevented my discovering in her something more than a coolness towards
me.

Guy the bookseller, partner with Duchesne, who, after I had left
Montmorency, frequently went to the hotel de Luxembourg, wrote to me that
my name was in the will of the marechal. There was nothing in this
either incredible or extraordinary, on which account I had no doubt of
the truth of the information. I deliberated within myself whether or not
I should rec