He suggested a terrible test of her penitence.
It was, that she should entreat her husband's pardon, and return to him.
It was a fearful struggle with herself, for she was naturally haughty
and high spirited; but she consented. After long agonies of hesitation,
she wrote to the injured man. Her letter was couched in the most humble
language; but it received no reply. The Marquis de Montespan, through a
third person, intimated to her that he would neither receive her, nor
see her, nor hear her name pronounced. At his death she wore widow's
weeds; but never assumed his arms, nor adopted his liveries.
Henceforth, all she had was given to the poor. When Louis meanly cut
down her pension, she sent word that she was sorry for the poor, not for
herself; they would be the losers. She then humbled herself to the very
dust: wore the hardest cloth next her fair skin; had iron bracelets; and
an iron girdle, which made wounds on her body. Moreover, she punished
the most unruly members of her frame: she kept her tongue in bounds;
she ceased to slander; she learned to bless. The fear of death still
haunted her; she lay in bed with every curtain drawn, the room lighted
up with wax candles; whilst she hired watchers to sit up all night, and
insisted that they should never cease talking or laughing, lest, when
she woke, the fear of _death_ might come over her affrighted spirit.
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