as Mademoiselle de Mortemart's grief that life became unbearable to
her. Beautiful, witty, and accomplished, she quitted the world where she
was beloved, and, at the, age of seventeen, took the veil at Fontevrault.

So severely had she blamed the conduct of Mademoiselle de la Valliere,
while often vehemently denouncing that which she termed the disorder at
Court, that, since the birth of the Duc du Maine, I had not gone to the
convent to see her. We were like unto persons both most anxious to break
off an intimacy and yet who had not done so.

The Duc de Lorraine was known to her. He wrote to her, begging her to
make it up with me, so as to further his own ends. To gratify him, and
mainly because of her attachment to Prince Charles, my sister actually
wrote to me, asking for my intervention and what she termed my support.

Nuns always profess to be, and think that they are, cut off from the
world. But the fact is, they care far more for mundane grandeur than we
do. Madame de Thianges and her sister would have given their very
heart's blood to see my niece the bride of a royal prince.

One day the King said to me, "The Marquise de Thianges complains that I
have as yet done nothing for your family; there is a wealthy abbey that
has just become vacant; I am going to give it to your sister, the nun;
since last night she is the Abbess of Fontevrault."

I thanked the King, as it behoved me to do, and he added, "Your brother
shall be made a duke at once. I am going to appoint him general of Royal
Galleys, and after one or two campaigns he will have a marshal's baton."

"And what about me, Sire?" said I. "What, may it please your Majesty,
shall I get from the distribution of all these favours and emoluments?" I
laughingly asked the question.

"You, madame?" he replied. "To you I made a present of my heart, which
is not altogether worthless; yet, as it is possible that, when this heart
shall have ceased to beat, you may have to maintain your rank, I will
give you the charming retreat of Petit-Bourg, near Fontainebleau."

Saying this, his face wore a sad look, and I was sorry that I asked him
for anything. He is fond of giving, and of giving generously, but of his
own accord, without the least prompting. Had I refrained from committing
this indiscretion, he might, possibly, have made me a duchess there and
then, renaming Petit-Bourg Royal-Bourg.

The new abbess of Fontevrault, caring less now for claustral seclusion,
equi