is scarcely more than a slight
disappointment to you. I take the respectful liberty of talking once
more with the prettiest and wittiest woman of her century, in order to
submit to her certain ideas, and to offer her a fresh piece of advice,
which I believe important.

The Queen, moved by a generosity seldom found in her peers, pardoned you
to some degree your theft of her spouse; she pardoned you in order to be
agreeable to him, and to prove to him that, being his most sincere
friend, she could not bring herself to contest his affections and his
pastimes. But this sublime philosophy is at an end; the excellent heart
of this Queen is at Val-de-Grace; it will beat no more, neither for her
volatile husband, nor for any one whatsoever.

Madame la Dauphine, brought up in German severity, and hardly accustomed
to the atmosphere of her new country, neither likes nor respects you, nor
has any indulgence for you. She barely suffers the presence of your
children, although brothers of her husband. How should she tolerate
yours? It appears, it is plain, Madame la Marquise, that your name has
found no place or footing on her list, and that she would rather not meet
you often in her salons. If one may even speak to you confidentially,
she has thus expressed herself; it would be cruel for you to hear of it
from any other being but me.

Believe me, believe a man as noted for his good qualities as for his
weaknesses. He will never drive you away, for you are the mother of his
beloved children, and he has loved you himself tenderly. However, his
coldness is going to increase. Will you be sufficiently light-hearted,
or sufficiently imprudent, to await on a counterscarp the rigours of
December and January?

Keep your wit always, Madame la Marquise, and with this wit, which is
such a charming resource, do not divest yourself of your noble pride.

I am, always, your respectful and devoted servant,

THE UNKNOWN OF THE CHATEAU.

At the time of the first letter, when I had hesitated some time, doubtful
between Madame de Maintenon and the King, it occurred to me to suspect
the Queen for a moment; but there was no possibility now of imputing to
this princess, dead and gone, the unbecoming annoyance that an unknown
permitted himself to cause me.

On this occasion I chose my part resolutely; and, not wishing to busy
myself any longer with these pretended friendly counsels which my pride
forbade me to follow, I took these two insolent let