her life, but what he would have been glad she should have done,
had he lived.

She had often been thinking how he came to know, that the Duke de
Nemours had been at Colomiers; she could not suspect that the
Duke himself had told it; though it was indifferent to her
whether he had or no, she thought herself so perfectly cured of
the passion she had had for him; and yet she was grieved at the
heart to think that he was the cause of her husband's death; and
she remembered with pain the fear Monsieur de Cleves expressed,
when dying, lest she should marry the Duke; but all these griefs
were swallowed up in that for the loss of her husband, and she
thought she had no other but that one.

After several months the violence of her grief abated, and she
fell into a languishing kind of melancholy. Madam de Martigues
made a journey to Paris, and constantly visited her during the
time she stayed there: she entertained her with an account of the
Court, and what passed there; and though Madam de Cleves appeared
unconcerned, yet still she continued talking on that subject in
hopes to divert her.

She talked to her of the Viscount, of Monsieur de Guise, and of
all others that were distinguished either in person or merit.
"As for the Duke de Nemours," says she, "I don't know if State
affairs have not taken possession of his heart in the room of
gallantry; he is abundantly less gay than he used to be, and
seems wholly to decline the company of women; he often makes
journeys to Paris, and I believe he is there now." The Duke de
Nemours's name surprised Madam de Cleves, and made her blush; she