But it was with the Duc de Savoie as with the Prince of Wales, and later with the Prince de Lorraine:
Quoi? moi! quoi? ces gens-là! l'on radote, je pense,
A moi les proposer! hélas! ils font pitié:
Voyez un peu la belle espèce.[171]
Having become less exacting with years, Mademoiselle at length found a man who did not disdain to play the part of substitute for his betters.
The Duke remained firm, and it was again a Nemours,[172] sister of the Queen of Portugal, who inherited the husband destined for the Grande Mademoiselle.
Equally difficult, the same fate fell upon Mademoiselle as upon the marriageable daughter in La Fontaine: she was to be reduced to wed a cadet of Gascony, the malotru of the fable. I believe that La Fontaine had Mademoiselle in his mind when writing La Fille. It has been queried whether this subject was not borrowed from the Epigram of Martial. There is no need for so distant a search. On July 8, 1664, La Fontaine had been appointed "gentleman-in-waiting to the dowager Duchesse d'Orléans."[173] He was, therefore, in a position to be well informed concerning the projects for marriage which failed, and the ridiculous actions of the daughter of the house. We possess his confidences upon the household of the Luxembourg, on the one side of the apartments of Madame, on the other those of Mademoiselle, in an epistle dedicated to Mignon, the little dog of his mistress.
For La Fontaine, the Luxembourg was the palace in which there was no place for lovers. The tender passion was forbidden chez Madame, where it was necessary to be contented with the "pious smiles" of Mme. de Crissé, the original of the Countess de Pimbesche, and to bear in mind the presence of an old Capuchin become Bishop of Bethléem in Nivernais,[174] who supervised the conversations. "Speak low," says the letter Pour Mignon.
Si l'évêque de Bethléem Nous entendait, Dieu sait la vie.
There was not even the resource of fleeing to the "Divinity" opposite. Under that shelter, lovers were less well regarded year by year, and La Fontaine divined why: the antipathy always evinced by Mademoiselle was now doubled by envy.
The check in regard to the Savoie marriage had brought on a painful crisis in the life of this poor unattached heroine. For the first time, she had been made to feel that she had passed the marriageable age, and she was one of those unfortunates who cannot easily resign themselves to the fall from the purely feminine portion of existence.
The revolt against nature frequently causes whimsicalities; a terrible injustice toward those doleful creatures who often have asked no better than to obey nature's laws in becoming wives and mothers. Nervous maladies give to the soul-tragedy a burlesque outside, and the world laughs without comprehending. Mademoiselle was one of these unfortunates. La Fontaine had well discovered it when he wrote: