his fine appearance, which never
quits him, rendered him sufficiently fit for such a representation and
his part in it.

The Doge of the humiliated Republic exhibited neither obsequiousness nor
pride. We found his demeanour that of a philosopher prepared for all
human events. His colleagues walked after him, but at a little distance.
When the Doge Lescaro had asked for pardon, as he had submitted to do,
two of his senators fell to weeping. The King, who noticed the general
emotion, descended from his throne and spoke for some minutes with the
five personages, and, smiling on them with his most seductive grace, he
once more drew all hearts to him.

I was placed at two paces from Madame de Maintenon. The Doge,--who was
never left by a master of ceremonies, who named the ladies to him,--in
passing before me, made a profound reverence. He then drew near Madame
de Maintenon, who heard all his compliments, said to him, in Italian, all
that could be said, and did him the honour to lean on his hand when
descending from her tribune to return to the King's.

On the next day the Doge and senators came to present their homage to my
children, and did not forget me in their visits of ceremony.

CHAPTER XLV.

The Comte de Vermandois.--His Entrance into the World.--Quarrels with the
Dauphin.--Duel.--Siege of Courtrai.--The Cathedral of Arras.

When Madame de la Valliere (led by suggestions coming from the Most High)
left the Court and the world to shut herself up in a cloister, she
committed a great imprudence; I should not know how to repeat it: The
Carmelites in the Rue Saint Jacques could easily do without her; her two
poor little children could not. The King confided them, I am well aware,
to governors and governesses who were prudent, attentive, and capable;
but all the governors and preceptors in the world will never replace a
mother,--above all, in a place of dissipation, tumult, and carelessness
like the Court.

M. le Comte de Vermandois was only seven years old when exaggerated
scruples and bad advice deprived him of his mother. This amiable child,
who loved her, at first suffered much from her absence and departure. He
had to be taken to the Carmelites, where the sad metamorphosis of his
mother, whom he had seen so brilliant and alluring, made him start back
in fright.

He loved her always as much as he was loved by her, and in virtue of the
permission formally given by the Pope, he went every week to