he King's indignation and resentment may well be imagined. He had his
captain of the guard arrested and sent as a prisoner to Pignerol.

On this occasion, M. de Lauzun complained bitterly of me; he invented the
most absurd tales about me, even saying that he had struck me in my own
apartments, after taunting me to my face with "our old intimacy."

That is false; he reproached me with nothing, for there was nothing to
reproach. Shortly after the Princess's grand scene, he came and begged
me to intercede on his behalf. I only made a sort of vague promise, and
he knew well enough that, in the great world, a vague promise is the same
as a refusal.

For more than six months I had to stanch the tears and assuage the grief
of Mademoiselle. So tiresome to me did this prove, that she alone
well-nigh sufficed to make me quit the Court.

Such sorrowing and chagrin made her lose the little beauty that still
remained to her; nothing seemed more incongruous and ridiculous than to
hear this elderly grand lady talking perpetually about "her dearest
darling, the prisoner."

At the time I write he is at Pignerol; his bad disposition is forever
getting him into trouble. She sends him lots of money unknown to the
King, who generally knows everything. All this money he squanders or
gambles away, and when funds are low, says, "The old lady will send us
some."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Hyde, the Chancellor.--Misfortune Not Always Misfortune.--Prince
Comnenus.--The King at Petit-Bourg.--His Incognito.--Who M. de Vivonne
Really Was.

The castle of Petit-Bourg, of which the King made me a present, is
situate on a height overlooking the Seine, whence one may get the
loveliest of views. So pleasant did I find this charming abode, that I
repaired thither as often as possible, and stayed for five or six days.
One balmy summer night, I sat in my dressing-gown at the central balcony,
watching the stars, as was my wont, asking myself whether I should not be
a thousand times happier if I should pass my life in a retreat like this,
and so have time to contemplate the glorious works of Nature, and to
prepare myself for that separation which sooner or later awaited me.
Reason bade me encourage such thoughts, yet my heart offered opposition
thereto, urging that there was something terrifying in solitude, most of
all here, amid vast fields and meadows, and that, away from the Court and
all my friends, I should grow old, and death would take me