The Memoirs of Madame de Montespan, vol 3 | Page 7

with us. They gladly accepted, and each retired

to his apartment until the time came for driving out. Dinner was laid,
and on the point of being served, when the King, who was on his way
from Fontainebleau, suddenly entered my room. He had heard
something about a fire, and came to see what had happened. I at once
informed him, telling him, moreover, that I had the Duke of York's
father-in-law staying with me at the moment.
"Lord Hyde, the Chancellor?" exclaimed the King. "I have never seen
him, and have always been desirous to make his acquaintance. The
opportunity is an easy and favourable one."
"But that is not all, Sire; I have other guests to meet you," said I.
"And who may they be?" inquired the King, smiling. "Just because I
have come in rough-and-ready plight, your house is full of people."
"But they are in rough-and-ready plight as well," I answered; "so your
Majesties must mutually excuse each other."
"Are you in fun or in earnest?" asked his Majesty. "Have you really got
some king stowed away in one of your rooms?"
"Not a king, Sire, but an emperor,--the Emperor of Constantinople and
Trebizond, accompanied by the Prince Imperial, his son. You shall see
two Greek profiles of the best sort, two finely cut noses, albeit hooked,
and almond-shaped eyes, like those of Achilles and Agamemnon."
Then the King said, "Send for your groom of the chambers at once, and
tell him to give orders that my incognito be strictly observed. You must
introduce me to these dignitaries as your brother, M. de Vivonne.
Under these conditions, I will join your party at table; otherwise, I
should be obliged to leave the castle immediately."
The King's wishes were promptly complied with; the footmen were let
into the secret, and I introduced "Monsieur de Vivonne" to my guests.
The talk, without being sparkling, was pleasant enough until dessert.
When the men-servants left us, it assumed a very different character.
The King induced the Chancellor to converse, and asked him if his
exile were owing to the English monarch personally, or to some
parliamentary intrigue.
"King Charles," replied his lordship, "is a prince to gauge whose
character requires long study. Apparently, he is the very soul of
candour, but no one is more deceitful than he. He fawns and smiles
upon you when in his heart of hearts he despises and loathe you. When
the Duke of York, unfortunately, became violently enamoured of my

daughter, he did not conceal his attachment from his brother, the King,
and at last asked for his approval to join his fortunes to my daughter's,
when the King, without offering opposition, contented himself by
pointing out the relative distance between their rank and position; to
which the Duke replied, 'But at one time you did everything you
possibly could to get Olympia Mancini, who was merely Mazarin's
niece!' And King Charles, who could not deny this, left his brother
complete liberty of action.
"As my daughter was far dearer and more precious to me than social
grandeur, I begged the Duke of York to find for himself a partner of
exalted rank. He gave way to despair, and spoke of putting an end to
his existence; in fact, he behaved as all lovers do whom passion
touches to madness; so this baleful marriage took place. God is my
witness that I opposed it, urged thereto by wisdom, by modesty, and by
foresight. Now, as you see, from that cruel moment I have been exiled
to alien lands, robbed of the sight of my beloved child, who has been
raised to the rank of a princess, and whom I shall never see again. Why
did my sovereign not say to me frankly, I do not like this marriage; you
must oppose it, Chancellor, to please me?
"How different was his conduct from that of his cousin, the French
King! Mademoiselle d'Orleans wanted to make an unsuitable match;
the King opposed it, as he had a right to do, and the marriage did not
take place."
My "brother," the King, smiled as he told his lordship he was right.
Prince Comnenus was of the same opinion, and, being expressly invited
to do so, he briefly recounted his adventures, and stated the object of
his journey to Paris.
"The whole world," said he, "is aware of the great misfortunes of my
family. The Emperors Andronicus and Michael Comnenus, driven from
the throne of Constantinople, left their names within the heart and
memory of Greece; they had ruled the West with a gentle sceptre, and
in a people's grateful remembrance they had their reward. My ancestors,
their descendants, held sway in Trebizond, a quicksand which gave
way beneath their tread. From adversity to adversity, from country to
country, we