was still in Paris, and one day he went to the Duchess
just as she was getting out of bed. In a loud voice he proceeded to
scold her, daring to threaten her as if she were some common woman; in
fact, he caught hold of her and endeavoured to strike her.

The King would not allow M. de Montausier to obtain redress from the
Marquis for such an insult as this. He granted a large pension to the
Duchess, and appointed her husband preceptor to the Dauphin.

Such honours and emoluments partly recompensed the Duchess, yet they
scarcely consoled her. She considered that her good name was all but
lost, and what afflicted her still more was that she never recovered her
health. She used to visit me, as our duties brought us together, but it
was easy to see that confidence and friendship no longer existed.

One day, when passing along one of the castle corridors, which, being so
gloomy, need lamplight at all hours, she perceived a tall white phantom,
which glared hideously at her, and then approaching, vanished. She was
utterly prostrated, and on returning to her apartments was seized with
fever and shivering. The doctors perceived that her brain was affected;
they ordered palliatives, but we soon saw that there was no counting upon
their remedies. She was gradually sinking.

Half an hour before she died the Duchess sent for me, having given
instructions that we should be left alone, and that there should be no
witnesses. Her intense emaciation was pitiful, and yet her face kept
something of its pleasant expression.

"It is because of you, and through you," she exclaimed in a feeble,
broken voice, "that I quit this world while yet in the prime of life. God
calls me; I must die.

"Kings are so horribly exacting. Everything that ministers to their
passions seems feasible to them, and righteous folk must consent to do
their pleasure, or suffer the penalty of being disgraced and neglected,
and of seeing their long years of service lost and forgotten.

"During that unlucky journey in Brabant, you sought by redoubling your
coquetry and fascinations to allure La Valliere's lover. You managed to
succeed; he became fond of you. Knowing my husband's ambitious nature,
he easily got him to make me favour this intrigue, and lend my apartments
as a meeting-place.

"At Court nothing long remains a secret. The Queen was warned, and for a
while would not believe her informants. But your husband, with brutal
impetuousness, burst