connection with the most supreme contempt; that he is certain of this
fact; and that I was still more contemptuously spoken of than himself. In
a word, he begs me to break off the treaty. But he has let me go too
far; and now he will make these people my irreconcilable enemies. This
has been put in his head by some of his flatterers; they do not wish him
to change his way of living; and very few of them would be received by
his wife." I tried to soften Madame, and, though I did not venture to
tell her so, I thought her brother right. She persisted in saying these
were lies, and, on the following Sunday, treated her brother very coldly.
He said nothing to me at that time; if he had, he would have embarrassed
me greatly. Madame atoned for everything by procuring favours, which
were the means of facilitating the young lady's marriage with a gentleman
of the Court. Her conduct, two months after marriage, compelled Madame
to confess that her brother had been perfectly right.

I saw my friend, Madame du Chiron. "Why," said she, "is the Marquise so
violent an enemy to the Jesuits? I assure you she is wrong. All
powerful as she is, she may find herself the worse for their enmity." I
replied that I knew nothing about the matter. "It is, however,
unquestionably a fact; and she does not feel that a word more or less
might decide her fate."--"How do you mean?" said I. "Well, I will
explain myself fully," said she. "You know what took place at the time
the King was stabbed: an attempt was made to get her out of the Castle
instantly. The Jesuits have no other object than the salvation of their
penitents; but they are men, and hatred may, without their being aware of
it, influence their minds, and inspire them with a greater degree of
severity than circumstances absolutely demand. Favour and partiality
may, on the other hand, induce the confessor to make great concessions;
and the shortest interval may suffice to save a favourite, especially if
any decent pretext can be found for prolonging her stay at Court." I