The fall of the Duc du Maine at the Bed of justice struck the first blow
at her. It is not too much to presume that she was well informed of the
measures and the designs of this darling, and that this hope had
sustained her; but when she saw him arrested she succumbed; continuous
fever seized her, and she died at eighty-three years of age, in the full
possession of all her intellect.

Regret for her loss, which was not even universal in Saint-Cyr, scarcely
passed the walls of that community. Aubigny, Archbishop of Rouen, her
pretended cousin, was the only man I ever heard of, who was fool enough
to die of grief on account of it. But he was so afflicted by this loss,
that he fell ill, and soon followed her.




CHAPTER XCVII.

Madame la Duchesse de Berry was living as usual, amid the loftiest pride,
and the vilest servitude; amid penitence the most austere at the
Carmelite convent of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, and suppers the most
profaned by vile company, filthiness, and impiety; amid the most
shameless debauchery, and the most horrible fear of the devil and death;
when lo! she fell ill at the Luxembourg.

I must disguise nothing more, especially as what I am relating belongs to
history; and never in these memoirs have I introduced details upon
gallantry except such as were necessary to the proper comprehension of
important or interesting matters to which they related. Madame la
Duchesse de Berry would constrain herself in nothing; she was indignant