My son cannot and will not believe that the Duc du Maine is the king's son. That man has always been treacherous; he did ill-turns to everybody; he was always hated as an arch-spy and informer. His wife, the little frog, is much more violent than he; for he is cowardly, and fear restrains him; but the wife mingles the heroic with her capers. I think myself that the Comte de Toulouse is really the king's son; but I have always believed that the Duc du Maine was the son of Terme, who was a treacherous scoundrel and the worst spy at Court. The old _guenipe_ had persuaded the king that the Duc du Maine was all virtue and piety; and when he reported harm of any one, she said it was for that person's good, so that the king might correct him. Thus the king considered everything that came from du Maine admirable; he regarded him as a saint. To this that confessor, Père Tellier, contributed much in order to please the old woman. The late chancellor Voysin also talked about the duke to the king by order of the Maintenon. PARIS, 1721. It cannot be said that Mlle. de Montpensier is ugly; she has pretty eyes, a delicate white skin, a well-formed nose, though rather too slim, and a very small mouth; and yet with all that she is the most disagreeable person I ever saw in my life; in all her actions, speaking, eating, drinking, she is intolerable; she did not shed a tear in leaving us; in fact, she scarcely said farewell.[14] I have seen successively two of my relatives and now my grand-daughter become Queens of Spain. The one I loved best was my step-daughter [wife of Charles II.]; for her I had a most sincere affection as if she were my sister; she could not have been my daughter because I was only nine years older than she. I was still very childish when I came to France, and we used to play together with Charles-Louis and the little Prince d'Eisenach, and make such a racket you could not have heard a thunderbolt fall. PARIS, March, 1722. I do not believe that in the whole world you could find a more amiable and sweeter child than our pretty infanta.[15] She makes reflections that are worthy of a woman of thirty; for instance: "They say that those who die at my age are saved and go straight to paradise; I should therefore be very glad if the good God would take me." I fear she has too much mind, and will not live. She has the prettiest ways in the world; she has taken a great liking to me, and runs to me in her antechamber with her arms wide open, and kisses me with affection. I am not on bad terms with the little king. May, 1722.