Chapter XLIX: Letter XXXVIII: PARIS, Friday, May 31, 1675

I have received only your first letter yet, my dear child; but that is invaluable. I have seen nothing since your absence, and every fresh person reminds me of it; they talk to me of you; they pity me; they----but stop; is it not such thoughts as these we should pass lightly over? Let us then do so.

I was yesterday at Madame de Verneuil’s in my way from St. Maur, where I had been with Cardinal de Retz. At the Hôtel de Sully, I met Mademoiselle de Launoi,[107] who is just married to the old Count de Montrevel; the wedding was kept there; you never saw a bride so pert; she bustles about the house, and calls _husband_, as if she had been married for twenty years. This same husband of hers, you must know, is very much troubled with the ague; he expected his fit the day after he was married, but missed it; upon which Fieubet said, “We have found a remedy for the ague, but who can tell us the dose?” Mesdames des Castelnau, Louvigny, Sulli, and Fiesque, were there. I leave you to guess what these charming women said to me. My friends are too solicitous about me; they harass me; but I do not lose a single moment that I can spend with our dear cardinal. These letters will inform you of the arrival of the coadjutor; I saw and embraced him this morning. He is to have a conference this evening with his eminence and M. d’Hacqueville on the steps he is to take. He has hitherto remained incog.

[107] Adriana-Philippa-Theresa de Launoi, who had been maid
of honor to the queen, was married to James-Mary de la Baume
Montrevel in 1675, and not in 1672, as it is said by mistake in
the history of the great officers of the crown.

The Duchess has lost Mademoiselle d’Enghien; one of her sons is going to die besides; her mother is ill; Madame de Langeron is already under ground; the prince and the duke in the army; ample subjects for tears, and, as I am told, she is not sparing of them. I leave D’Hacqueville to tell you the news of the war; and the Grignans to write to you about the chevalier; if he should return hither, I will take as much care of him as of my own son. I imagine you are now upon the tranquil Saône; our minds ought to resemble this calm view, but our hearts perpetually seduce them; mine is wholly with my daughter. I have already told you, that my greatest difficulty is to divert my thoughts from you, for they all tend to the same point.