October of the same year, and was very pleased with the
choice he had made. He liked his new wife so much, in fact, that when
Madame de Montespan obtained for her a place at the Court, he declined it
at once. At his age--it was thus he wrote to Madame de Montespan, he had
taken a wife not for the Court, but for himself. My mother, who was
absent when the letter announcing the appointment was sent, felt much
regret, but never showed it.

Before I finish this account of my father, I will here relate adventures
which happened to him, and which I ought to have placed before his second
marriage. A disagreement arose between my father and M. de Vardes, and
still existed long after everybody thought they were reconciled. It was
ultimately agreed that upon an early day, at about twelve o'clock, they
should meet at the Porte St. Honore, then a very deserted spot, and that
the coach of M. de Vardes should run against my father's, and a general
quarrel arise between masters and servants. Under cover of this quarrel,
a duel could easily take place, and would seem simply to arise out of the
broil there and then occasioned. On the morning appointed, my father
called as usual upon several of his friends, and, taking one of them for
second, went to the Porte St. Honore. There everything fell out just as
had been arranged. The coach of M. de Vardes struck against the other.
My father leaped out, M. de Vardes did the same, and the duel took place.
M. de Vardes fell, and was disarmed. My father wished to make him beg
for his life; he would not do this, but confessed himself vanquished.
My father's coach being the nearest, M. de Vardes got into it. He
fainted on the road. They separated afterwards like brave people, and
went their way. Madame de Chatillon, since of Mecklenburg, lodged in one
of the last houses near the Porte St. Honore, and at the noise made by
the coaches, put, her head to the window, and coolly looked at the whole
of the combat. It soon made a great noise. My father was complimented
everywhere. M. de Vardes was sent for ten or twelve days to the
Bastille. My father and he afterwards became completely reconciled to
each other.

The other adventure was of gentler ending. The Memoirs of M. de la
Rochefoucauld appeared. They contained certain atrocious and false
statements against my father, who so severely resented the calumny, that
he seized a pen, and wrote upon the margin of the book, "The author has
told a lie." Not co