es of very mischievous satyr, and much
mixed up in grand intrigues of gallantry, made, about this time, a song
upon the grand 'prevot' and his family. It was so simple, so true to
nature, withal so pleasant, that some one having whispered it in the ear
of the Marechal de Boufflers at chapel, he could not refrain from
bursting into laughter, although he was in attendance at the mass of the
King. The Marechal was the gravest and most serious man in all France;
the greatest slave to decorum. The King turned round therefore, in
surprise, which augmented considerably when he saw the Marechal de
Boufflers nigh to bursting with laughter, and the tears running down his
cheeks. On turning into his cabinet, he called the Marechal, and asked
what had got him in that state at the mass. The Marechal repeated the
song to him. Thereupon the King burst out louder than the Marechal had,
and for a whole fortnight afterwards could not help smiling whenever he
saw the grand 'prevot' or any of his family. The song soon spread about,
and much diverted the Court and the town.

I should particularly avoid soiling this page with an account of the
operation for fistula which Courcillon, only son of Dangeau, had
performed upon him, but for the extreme ridicule with which it was
accompanied. Courcillon was a dashing young fellow, much given to witty
sayings, to mischief, to impiety, and to the filthiest debauchery, of
which latter, indeed, this operation passed publicly as the fruit. His
mother, Madams Dangeau, was in the strictest intimacy with Madame de
Maintenon. They two alone, of all the Court, were ignorant of the life
Courcillon led. Madame was much afflicted; and quitted his bed-side,
even for a moment, with pain. Madame de Maintenon entered into her
sorrow, and went every day to bear her company at the pillow of
Courcillon. Madame d'Heudicourt, another intimate friend of Madame de
Maintenon, was admitted there also, but scarcely anybody else.
Courcillon listened to them, spoke devotionally to them, and uttered the
reflections suggested by his state. They, all admiration, published
everywhere that he was a saint. Madame d'Heudicourt and a few others who
listened to these discourses, and who knew the pilgrim well, and saw him
loll out his tongue at them on the sly, knew not what to do to prevent
their laughter, and as soon as they could get away went and related all
they had heard to their friends. Courcillon, who thought it