Yet, courted and victorious as she was, the favourite appeared a prey to torment; she was agitated, in a terrible fever. On January 13, 1678, the Comte de Rébenac wrote to the Marquis de Feuquières: 'Madame de Montespan's gambling has reached such a pitch that losses of 100,000 crowns (£60,000 to-day) are common. On Christmas Day she lost 700,000 crowns; she staked 150,000 pistoles (£280,000 at the present day) on three cards, and won.' She lost her head in her triumph--her last triumph, dazzling but ephemeral, and about to be followed by days of cruel anguish. In March 1679, Madame de Maintenon asked the Abbé Gobelin 'to pray and to have prayers said for the king, who is on the brink of a deep precipice.' This 'precipice' was the heart of Marie Angélique de Scoraille, demoiselle de Fontanges. She was eighteen years old, fair, with glossy flaxen hair; her large eyes, with their look of childish wonderment, were a light grey, deep and limpid; her skin was white as milk, her cheeks a lovely rose-pink; and in disposition, said her contemporaries, she was a genuine heroine of romance. She lived at Court in the capacity of maid of honour to Madame, as Madame de Ludres and Mademoiselle de la Vallière had done before her. 'Mademoiselle de Fontanges,' says Madame Palatine, 'is lovely as an angel, from head to foot.' If we may trust Bussy-Rabutin, 'her relatives, seeing her beauty and grace, and having more love for their fortune than for their honour, clubbed together to fit her out for Court, and to provide her with means corresponding to the position she was entering.' This was a thunderbolt for Louis XIV and Madame de Montespan. We read in the _Précis historique de Saint-Germain-en-Laye_, by Lorot and Sivry: 'Madame de Montespan left Saint-Germain suddenly because of the jealousy she has conceived for Mademoiselle de Fontanges.' But the royal lover did not allow his mistresses to leave him at their own whim. He had imposed on Louise de la Vallière the bitter martyrdom of following as an expiatory victim the triumph of Madame de Montespan; he now compelled Madame de Montespan to witness the triumph of Mademoiselle de Fontanges. The proud marquise resigned herself to it, at least in appearance. On March 30, 1679, she wrote to the Duke de Noailles: 'All is very quiet here; the king only comes into my room after mass and after supper. It is much better to see each other seldom but pleasantly, than often with embarrassment,' Soon even this apparent satisfaction was withdrawn from her. The desertion was public and complete. According to Madame de Sévigné, 'there was a ball at Villers-Cotterets, at Monsieur's place. There were masques. Mademoiselle de Fontanges appeared there in great brilliance, and adorned by the hands of Madame de Montespan.' Bussy rejoiced at the disgrace. 'Madame de Montespan has fallen, the king regards her no more, and you may be sure the courtiers follow his example.'