to have me stoned?"

They mounted again, after having left my purse with the poor relations of
the dead man; and as far as Ruel, which was our destination, I was
compelled to listen to their complaints and litanies.

"Admit, madame," I declared to Madame de Maintenon, "that any person
except myself could and would detest you for the harm you have done me.
Your part was to blame the postilions lightly and the rustic very
positively. My equipage did not come unexpectedly, and my two outriders
had signalled from their horses."

"Madame," she replied, "you have not seen, as I did, those eyes of the
unhappy man forced violently from their sockets, his poor crushed head,
his palpitating heart, from which the blood soaked the pavement; such a
sight has moved and broken my own heart. I was, as I am still, quite
beside myself, and, in such a situation, it is permissible to forget
discretion in one's speech and the proprieties. I had no intention of
giving you pain; I am distressed at having done so. But as for your
coachmen I loathe them, and, since you undertake their defence, I shall
not for the future show myself in your equipage."

[In one of her letters, Madame de Maintenon speaks of this accident, but
she does not give quite the same account of it. It is natural that
Madame de Montespan seeks to excuse her people and herself if she
can.--EDITOR'S NOTE.]

At Ruel, she dared take the same tone before the Duchesse de Richelieu,
who rebuked her for officiousness, and out of spite, or some other
reason, Madame de Maintenon refused to dine. She had two or three
swooning fits; her tears started afresh four or five times, and the
Marquise d'Hudicourt, who dined only by snatches, went into a corner to
sob and weep along with her.

"Admit, madame," I said then to Madame de Maintenon, "your excessive
grief for an unknown man is singular. He was, perhaps, actually a
dishonest fellow. The accident which you come back to incessantly, and
which distresses me also, is doubtless deplorable; but, after all, it is
not a murder, an ambush, a premeditated assassination. I imagine that if
such a catastrophe had happened elsewhere, and been reported to us in a
gazette or a book, you would have read of it with interest and
commiseration; but we should not have seen you clasp your hands over your
head, turn red and pale, utter loud cries, shed tears, sob, and scold a
coachman, postilions, perhaps even me. The event, would, neverthe