fter his death.

While he lived he was flattered, even to idolatry.

He was so much tormented on my account that I could not have wondered if
he had hated me most cordially. However, he did not; but, on the
contrary, he discovered that all which was said against me sprang from
malice and jealousy.

If he had not been so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of two of the
worst women in the world Montespan, and that old Maintenon, who was even
worse than the other, he would have been one of the best kings that ever
lived; for all the evil that he ever did proceeded from those two women,
and not from himself.

Although I approved of many things he did, I could not agree with him
when he maintained that it was vulgar to love one's relations. Montespan
had instilled this into him, in order that she might get rid of all his
legitimate blood connections, and might suffer none about him but her
bastards; she had even carried matters so far as to seek to confine the
royal favour to her offspring or her creatures.

Our King loved the chase passionately; particularly hawking and stag
hunting.

One day all the world came to Marly to offer their compliments of
condolence; Louis XIV., to get rid of the ceremony, ordered that no
harangues should be made, but that all the Court should enter without
distinction and together at one door, and go out by the other. Among
them came the Bishop of Gap, in a sort of dancing step, weeping large,
hot tears, and smiling at the same moment, which gave to his face the
most grotesque appearance imaginable. Madame, the Dauphine, and I, were
the first who could not restrain ourselves; then the Dauphin and the Duc
de Berri, and at last the King, and everybody who was in the chamber
burst out into loud laughter.

The King, it must be allowed, gave occasion to great scandal on account
of his mistresses; but then he very sincerely repented of these offences.

He had good natural wit, but was extremely ignorant; and was so much
ashamed of it that it became the fashion for his courtiers to turn
learned men into ridicule. Louis XIV. could not endure to hear politics
talked; he was what they call in this country, 'franc du collier'.

At Marly he did not wish the slightest ceremony to prevail. Neither
ambassadors nor other envoys were ever permitted to come here; he never
gave audience; there was no etiquette, and the people went about
'pele-mele'. Out of doors the King made all the men wear t