PARIS, Wednesday, April 29, 1676.
I must begin by telling you that Condé was taken by storm on Saturday
night. The news at first made my heart beat; I feared the victory had
cost us dear, but it does not prove so; we have lost some men, but none
of any note; this may be reckoned a complete happiness. Larei, the son
of M. Lainé, who was killed in Candia, or his brother, is dangerously
wounded. You see how soon our old heroes are forgotten.
Madame de Brinvilliers is not so comfortable as I am; she is in
prison, and endeavors to pass her time there as pleasantly as she
can; she desired yesterday to play at piquet, because she was dull.
Her confession has been found; it informs us that at the age of seven
years she ceased to be a virgin; that she had ever since gone on at
the same rate; that she had poisoned her father, her brothers, one of
her children, and herself; but the last was only to make trial of a
counter-poison. Medea was a saint compared with her. She has owned this
confession to be her own writing; it was an unaccountable folly; but
she says she was in a high fever when she wrote it, and that it was an
act of madness or frenzy, which does not deserve a serious thought.
The queen has been twice at the Carmelites with Madame de Montespan.
The latter set on foot a lottery; she collected every thing that could
be useful to the nuns; this was a great novelty and amusement in the
convent. She conversed a long time with sister Louise[140] de la
Miséricorde, and asked her whether it was really true that she was as
happy there as it had been generally reported. She replied, “I am not
happy, but I am contented.” Quanto talked to her a great deal of the
brother of monsieur; and asked her if she had no message to send him,
and what she should say to him for her. She replied in the sweetest
tone and manner possible, though perhaps a little piqued at the
question; “Whatever you please, madam, whatever you please.” Fancy this
to be expressed with all the grace, spirit, and modesty, which you so
well understand. Quanto afterward wished for something to eat, and sent
to purchase some ingredient that was necessary for a sauce she prepared
herself, and which she ate with a wonderful appetite. I tell you the
simple fact without the least embellishment. When I think of the letter
you wrote me last year about M. de Vivonne, I consider all I send you
as a burlesque. To what lengths will not folly lead a man who thinks
himself deserving of such exaggerated praise!
[140] Madame de la Vallière.