d his children remained there living by charity. A long time
after his death beyond the seas, the Abbe de Saint-Simon passed from
Noyan to Metz, where he found his widow in great misery.

The Queen of England sent for Madame L'Hospital to Saint-Germain, thanked
her, caressed her, as she deserved, and gave her her portrait. This was
all; the Regent gave her nothing; a long while after King James wrote to
her, and sent her also his portrait. Conclusion: she remained post-
mistress of Nonancourt as before, twenty or twenty-five years after, to
her death; and her son and her daughter-in-law keep the post now. She
was a true woman; estimated in her neighbourhood; not a single word that
she uttered concerning this history has been contradicted by any one.
What it cost her can never be said, but she never received a farthing.
She never complained, but spoke as she found things, with modesty, and
without seeking to speak. Such is the indigence of dethroned Kings, and
their complete forgetfulness of the greatest perils and the most signal
services.

Many honest people avoided Stair, whose insolent airs made others avoid
him. He filled the cup by the insupportable manner in which he spoke
upon that affair, never daring to admit he had directed it, or deigning
to disculpate himself. The only annoyance he showed was about his ill-
success.

CHAPTER LXXXI

I must say a few words now of Madame la Duchesse de Berry, who, as may be
imagined, began to hold her head very high indeed directly the regency of
Monsieur her father was established. Despite the representations of
Madame de Saint-Simon, she usurped all the honours of a queen; she went
through Paris with kettle-drums beating, and all along the quay of the
Tuileries where the King was. The Marechal de Villeroy complained of
this next day to M. le Duc d'Orleans, who promised him that while the
King remained in Paris no kettle-drums should be heard but his. Never
afterwards did Madame la Duchesse de Berry have any, yet when she went to
the theatre she sat upon a raised dais in her box, had four of her guards
upon the stage, and others in the pit; the house was better lighted than
usual, and before the commencement of the performance she was harangued
by the players. This made a strange stir in Paris, and as she did not
dare to continue it she gave up her usual place, and took at the opera a
little box where she could scarcely be seen, and where she was almost
incognito. As