The Princesse de Condé had figured at the marriage of her son and at the subsequent festivities, but, after the young couple had established themselves at Chantilly, where a portion of the château had been placed at their disposal, she gradually disappeared from the Court and Society, and was never seen except at great official functions, where her rank necessitated her presence. Often she was ill and invisible for months at a time, and Condé and Enghien appeared very embarrassed when people inquired after the princess’s health, and hastened to change the subject. A few notes preserved in the archives of Chantilly serve to explain what seems to have remained an enigma, even to the best-informed of contemporary chroniclers. In the autumn of 1664, we find Condé writing to his secretary Caillet as follows: “Make yourself acquainted with everything that my wife does at Saint-Maur; inform me of everything that she does or says, and whether she still persists in her transports (_emportements_).... M. Perrault writes me that she spoke to him with moderation. I am a little dubious about that, for I hear from others that she is anything but moderate.... Endeavour, at any rate, to discover what has become of Duval, and if my wife has not seen him at Saint-Maur.... I will inform you of what will have to be done in this matter. Show my letter to the Abbé Roquette and to Père Bergier (the two spiritual directors of the family).”[209] From these letters, it is very evident that _Madame la Princesse’s_ mind was affected, a fact which is not surprising, when we consider that her mother, Nicole du Plessis, had always been eccentric, and, in her later years, quite insane; that her father had been noted for his morose disposition and violent temper, and that she herself had passed through so many agitations, hardships, and deceptions. It is, indeed, sad to reflect that the reason of this truly noble woman, who in war and exile had shown such admirable courage and fortitude, should have given way at the very moment when she should have been enjoying the repose and happiness which she had so well earned. For this calamity the neglect and indifference of her ungrateful husband and her unnatural son were undoubtedly largely responsible. Abandoned by those who should have lavished upon her the most tender care, the unhappy Claire-Clémence became the prey of greedy and unscrupulous attendants. The man Duval mentioned by Condé in one of his letters to Caillet was a footman of the princess, a person of some education and “_de bonne conversation_,” to whom the lonely woman had attached herself. She gave him expensive presents and promised him a pension; and Condé, warned of the influence which he was beginning to exercise over his wife, insisted on her dismissing him from her service.