The dismissal of the only person who appeared to feel for her any sympathy aggravated for a time the malady of Claire-Clémence, and was no doubt the cause of the “_emportements_” of which her husband speaks. But they do not appear to have lasted long, and by Holy Week 1665, she was sufficiently recovered to assist at the ceremonies of the Lord’s Supper, when the Queen, in accordance with ancient custom, served at table twelve poor women, whose feet she washed. The Princesse de Condé, aided by Mlle. d’Alençon and the Princess of Baden, carried the dishes to her Majesty. During the next six years, Claire-Clémence continued to lead the same secluded life, emerging now and again from her retirement to assist at some Court ceremony, such as the baptism of the Dauphin at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, on which occasion she was one of the princesses to whom fell the duty of dressing the infant prince. After this brilliant ceremony, however, the appearances of the princess in public became so rare that people appear to have almost forgotten her existence, when, at the beginning of 1671, a mysterious affair, which was to complete the ruin of her life, came to make her, for a moment, the talk of both Court and town. About two o’clock in the afternoon of 13 January, Claire-Clémence, having just dined, was alone in her apartments at the Hôtel de Condé, when the door opened, and her former favourite, the dismissed footman, Duval, entered the room unannounced. The ease with which he had succeeded in making his way to the princess’s apartments is explained by the fact that at this hour of the day all the servants were at dinner, and that there was no one at hand to inquire his business. Duval had come to demand money--the arrears of the pension which the princess had promised him, but which, owing to the unsatisfactory state of her finances, had only been paid very irregularly. On being told that it was impossible to comply with his request at once, he became very insolent and spoke in so loud a tone that a young musketeer, the Comte Jean Louis de Bussy-Rabutin, formerly page to the Princesse de Condé, who had just entered the ante-chamber, opened the door to see what was the matter. Rabutin, after asking the impudent rascal how he dared to address her Highness in such a manner, ordered him to leave the house immediately; Duval angrily refused, and both drew their swords and rushed upon each other. The princess endeavoured to separate them, and received a wound “above the right breast,”[210] which, though not dangerous, bled profusely. She fell to the ground in a swoon; the servants, attracted by the noise, came rushing in, and the combatants, profiting by the confusion, succeeded in effecting their escape, though not before they had both been recognized.