Now that she was dead, the matter was no better.

One favourite had succeeded another, and if De Montespan had held her own so long, it was rather from her audacity than from his affection.

But now Father La Chaise and Bossuet were ever reminding him that he had topped the summit of his life, and was already upon that downward path which leads to the grave.

His wild outburst over the unhappy Fontanges had represented the last flicker of his passions.

The time had come for gravity and for calm, neither of which was to be expected in the company of Madame de Montespan.
But he had found out where they were to be enjoyed.