as though no man
were his equal, complained that he had not been made Marechal of France
--sometimes said that he had taken his baton in money, and constantly
bullied Madame de Maintenon because she did not make him a duke and a
peer. He spent his time running after girls in the Tuileries, always had
several on his hands, and lived and spent his money with their families
and friends of the same kidney. He was just fit for a strait-waistcoat,
but comical, full of wit and unexpected repartees. A good, humorous
fellow, and honest-polite, and not too impertinent on account of his
sister's fortune. Yet it was a pleasure to hear him talk of the time of
Scarron and the Hotel d'Albret, and of the gallantries and adventures of
his sister, which he contrasted with her present position and devotion.
He would talk in this manner, not before one or two, but in a
compromising manner, quite openly in the Tuileries gardens, or in the
galleries of Versailles, before everybody, and would often drolly speak
of the King as "the brother-in-law." I have frequently heard him talk in
this manner; above all, when he came (more often than was desired) to
dine with my father and mother, who were much embarrassed with him; at
which I used to laugh in my sleeve.

A brother like this was a great annoyance to Madame de Maintenon. His
wife, an obscure creature, more obscure, if possible, than her birth;
--foolish to the last degree, and of humble mien, was almost equally so.
Madame de Maintenon determined to rid herself of both. She persuaded her
brother to enter a society that had been established by a M. Doyen, at
St. Sulpice, for decayed gentlemen. His wife at the same time was
induced to retire into another community, where, however, she did not
fail to say to her companions that her fate was very hard, and that she
wished to be free. As for d'Aubigne he concealed from nobody that his
sister was putting a joke on him by trying to persuade him that he was
devout, declared that he was pestered by priests, and that he should give
up the ghost in M. Doyen's house. He could not stand it long, and went
back to his girls and to the Tuileries, and wherever he could; but they
caught him again, and placed him under the guardianship of one of the
stupidest priests of St. Sulpice, who followed him everywhere like his
shadow, and made him miserable. The fellow's name was Madot: he was good
for no other employment, but gained his pay in this one by an