THE ROCKS, Sunday, August 23, 1671.
You were with the president of Charme’s lady, then, when you wrote to
me. Her husband was the intimate friend of Monsieur Fouquet. Am I right
in this? In short, my dear, you were not alone; and M. de Grignan acted
wisely in making you leave your closet to entertain your company. He
might, however, have spared his capuchin’s beard, though he did not
appear much the worse for it in your eyes, for when he was at Livri,
with _his bushy tuft_,[50] you thought him handsomer than Adonis. I
often repeat these four verses with admiration. It is surprising what
an impression the remembrance of any particular time makes upon the
mind, whether good or bad. Sometimes I think of that delicious autumn;
and then again, when I reflect on the latter part of it, I sweat with
horror;[51] yet we ought to be thankful to Providence, who delivered
you out of the danger you were in.
[50] _Sa touffe ébouriffée_. Part of a _bout rimé_, filled up by
Madame de Grignan.
[51] On account of a miscarriage that Madame de Grignan had at
Livri, the 4th November, 1669.
Your reflections upon the death of M. de Guise are admirable; they have
made me plow up my mall with my eyes; for it is there I meditate with
most pleasure. Poor La Mousse has been afflicted with the tooth-ache,
so that for a long time I have walked alone till night, and thought
of--God knows what I have not thought of. Do not be under apprehensions
of my growing weary of solitude: set aside the ills that arise from
my own heart, and against which I have not strength to struggle, and
I am not to be pitied in any respect. I am of a happy temper; I can
accommodate myself to, and be pleased with any thing; and I prefer my
retirement here to all the noise and pageantry of Vitré. I have been
here a week, and the tranquillity I have enjoyed has cured me of a
dreadful cold. I have drank nothing but water; have talked very little;
have left off suppers; and by this method, without having shortened my
walks, I am quite well again. Madame de Chaulnes, Madame de Murinais,
Madame Fourché, and a very fine girl from Nantes, came here last
Thursday. Madame de Chaulnes told me, as she came into my room, that
she could exist no longer without seeing me; that she had the weight of
all Brittany upon her shoulders, and should die with fatigue. She then
flung herself upon my bed; we sat round her, and she was fast asleep in
a minute, from mere fatigue, though we continued talking. At last she
awoke, highly charmed with the ease and freedom we enjoy at the Rocks.
We then took a walk. Afterward she and I sat down to rest ourselves in
the center of the wood, and while the rest were diverting themselves
at mall, I made her tell me how she came to marry M. de Chaulnes; for
I always love to fish out something by way of amusement; but in the
midst of our entertainment there came on just so treacherous a shower
like the one you may remember at Livri, that we were nearly drowned.
The water ran from our clothes in streams; it came through the trees in
a moment, and we were instantly wet to the skin. We ran as fast as we
could, some screaming, others sliding, others falling. At last we got
in, a roaring fire was made, we changed our dress from head to foot, I
furnishing the whole wardrobe. We dried our shoes, and were ready to
die with laughing all the while. In this manner was the gouvernante
of Brittany treated in her own government. After this we had a slight
repast, and then the poor woman left us, more vexed, I dare say, at the
part she had to play when she got home, than at the affront she had
received here. She made me promise to relate this adventure to you, and
to come and assist her to-morrow in entertaining the States, which will
break up in about a week. I engaged to do both; of the one I now acquit
myself, and of the other I shall acquit myself to-morrow, as I can not
help showing her this civility.