“The Queen had a peculiar and ardent desire to be crowned before the King’s departure for Germany. The King did not wish it, both by reason of the expense and because he did not like these grand festivals. Yet, since he was the kindest husband in the world, he consented and delayed his departure until she should make her entry into Paris.[77] He commanded me to stay also, which I did because of his desire, and also because the Princesse de Conti had asked me to be her cavalier at the ceremony of the _Sacre_ and the entry.[78] “The Court went on May 12 to stay at Saint-Denis, to be in readiness for the morrow, the day of the Queen’s _Sacre_, which was celebrated with the greatest possible magnificence. The King, on this occasion, was extraordinarily gay.[79] In the evening everyone returned to Paris. “The following morning, the 14th of the said month, M. de Guise passed by my lodging and took me to go and meet the King, who had gone to hear Mass at the Feuillants. On the way we were told that he was returning by the Tuileries, upon which we went to intercept him and found him talking to M. de Villeroy. He left him, and taking M. de Guise and myself, one on either side of him, said: ‘I come from the Feuillants, where I saw the chapel which Bassompierre is having built there, and on the door he has had placed this inscription: _Quid retribuam. Domino pro omnibus que retribuit mihi?_ And I said that, since he was German, he should have put: _Calicem salutaris accipiam._’ M. de Guise laughed heartily and said to him: ‘You are, to my mind, one of the most agreeable men in the world, and our destiny created us for one another. For, had you been a man of middling station, I would have had you in my service, cost what it might; but, since God has made you a great king, it could not be otherwise than that I must belong to you.’ The King embraced him, and me also, and said: ‘You don’t know me now; but I shall die one of these days; and, when you have lost me, you will know my worth and the difference there is between me and other men.’ Upon this I said to him: ‘_Mon Dieu_, Sire, why do you never cease afflicting us by saying that you will soon die? These are not good words to utter; you will live, if it please God, long and happy years. There is no felicity in the world equal to yours; you are but in the flower of your age, in perfect strength and health of body, full of honours beyond any other mortal, in the tranquil enjoyment of the most flourishing country in the world; loved and adored by your subjects; possessed of property, of money, of beautiful residences, a beautiful wife, beautiful mistresses and beautiful children, who are growing up. What more could you have or