es of honor and emolument. Madame de
Maintenon, in herself a host, was one of the most devoted of his
friends. She had been his tutor. She had ever loved him ardently. He
had also pledged her, in case of his success, that she should be
recognized as Queen of France.

The monarch was harassed and bewildered by these contending factions.
The populace took sides. The Duke of Orleans could not leave his
palace without being exposed to the hootings of the rabble. He
withdrew from his city residence, the Palais Royal, to the splendid
palace of St. Cloud. He was accompanied by a magnificent train of
nobles, and, being a man of almost boundless wealth, he established
his court here in regal splendor.

There was no _proof_ that the Duke of Orleans was implicated in the
poisonings. The king was unwilling to receive evidence that his
brother's son could be guilty of such a crime. Being superstitiously a
religionist, the king recoiled from the attempt to place upon the
throne a son of Madame de Montespan, who was the acknowledged wife of
another man. He therefore favored the claims of the Duke of Orleans,
and sent him word at St. Cloud that he recognized his innocence of
the crime of which public rumor accused him.

It is, however, very evident that this was a measure of policy and not
of sincere conviction. He entered into no friendly relations with the
duke, and kept him at a respectful distance. The disastrous war of the
Spanish Succession was now closed, through the curious complications
of state policy. Philip VI. retained his throne, but France was
exhausted and impoverished. The king often sat for hours, with his
head leaning upon his hand, in a state of profound listlessness and
melancholy. Famine was ravaging the land. A wail of woe came from
millions whom his wars and extravagance had reduced to starvation.

The Duchess de Berri, the unblushing profligate, the undoubted
murderess, was, as the daughter of the king's brother, the only
legitimate princess left to preside over the royal court. She was
fascinating in person and manners, with scarcely a redeeming virtue to
atone for her undisguised vices.

"Thus the stately court of Anne of Austria, the punctilious circle of
Maria Theresa, and the elegant society of the Duchess of Burgoyne
were--at the very period of his life when Louis XIV., at length
disenchanted of the greatness, and disgusted with the vices of the
world, was seeking to purify his heart and to exalt hi