To his unfortunate wife, Anne of Bavaria, he was a veritable tyrant. She was ugly, virtuous, and stupid, a little deformed, and not very clean in her person; but this did not hinder him from being furiously jealous till the end of his life. Nor were her piety, the unwearying attentions she lavished upon him, her gentleness, and her novice-like submission able to protect her from frequent insults, and even from blows and kicks. The poor woman was hardly allowed to call her soul her own. “She was not mistress even of the most trifling things; she did not dare to propose or to ask anything. He would make her start on a journey the moment the fancy took him, and often, as soon as she was seated in the carriage, he would make her descend again, or return from the end of the street, and recommence the journey after dinner or the next day. Once this kind of thing lasted for fifteen days running, before a journey to Fontainebleau. At other times, he would summon her from church, and make her leave High Mass, and sometimes would even send for her when she was on the point of receiving the Communion; and she would be obliged to return on the instant and defer her Communion until another occasion. This he did, not because he wanted her, but merely to gratify his whim.” He was always uncertain in his movements, and had four dinners prepared for him every day: one in Paris, a second at Écouen, a third at Chantilly, and a fourth wherever the Court might be at the moment. But the expense of this arrangement was not so great as might be supposed, for the _menu_ consisted merely of soup and half a chicken roasted upon a _croûton_ of bread, the other half serving for the following day. He rarely invited any one to dine with him, but, when he did, no one could be more courteous or more attentive to his guests. He delighted in practical jokes, generally of an extremely malicious kind, of which the following will serve as an example: [Illustration: DIANE GABRIELLE DE THIANGES, DUCHESSE DE NEVERS]