The Memoirs of Madame de Montespan, vol 6 | Page 9

reached her end
by other means.
"I cannot endure that woman," she answered. "She knows that you have
made her, that without you she would be languishing still in her little
apartment in the Maree; and when for more than a year she sees you
neglected by the King and almost deserted, she abandons you to your
destiny, and does not condescend to offer you any consolation. I have
mortified her; I do not repent of it in the least, and every time that I
come across her I shall permit myself that gratification.
"What is she thinking of at her age; with her pretensions to a fine figure,
an ethereal carriage, and beauty? And yet it must be admitted that her
complexion is not made up. She has the sheen of the lily mingled with
that of the rose, and her eyes exhibit a smiling vivacity which leaves
our great coquettes of the day far behind!"
"She is nature unadorned as far as her complexion goes, believe me,"
said I to my sister. "During my constant journeys she has always slept
at my side, and her face at waking has always been as at noon and all
day long. She related to us once at the Marechale d'Albret's, where I
knew her, that at Martinique--that distant country which was her
cradle--an ancient negress, well preserved and robust, had been kind
enough to take her into her dwelling. This woman led her one day into
the woods. She stripped of its bark some shrub, after having sought it a
long time. She grated this bark and mixed it with the juice of chosen
herbs. She wrapped up all this concoction in half a banana skin, and
gave the specific to the little D'Aubigne.
"This mess having no nasty taste, the little girl consented to return
fifteen or twenty times into the grove, where her negress carefully

composed and served up to her the same feast.
"'Why do you care to give me this green paste?' the young creole asked
her one day.
"The old woman said: 'My dear child, I cannot wait till you have
enough sense to learn to understand these plants, for I love you as if
you were my own daughter, and I want to leave you a secret which will
cause you to live a long time. Though I look as I do, I am 138 years old
already. I am the oldest person in the colony, and this paste that I make
for you has preserved my strength and my freshness. It will produce the
same effect on my dear little girl, and will keep her young and pretty
too for a long time.'
"This negress, unhappily, fell asleep one day under a wild pear-tree in
the Savannah, and a crocodile came out of the river hard by and
devoured her."
"I have heard tell," replied my sister, "that Mademoiselle d'Aubigne,
after the death of her mother, or husband, was bound by the ties of a
close friendship with Ninon de l'Enclos, whose beauty made such a
sensation among the gallants, and still occupies them.
"One was assured, you know, that Ninon possesses a potion, and that in
her generosity to her friend, the fair Indian, she lent her her phial of
elixir."
"No, no," said I to the Marquise, "that piece of gallantry of Ninon is
only a myth; it is the composition of Martinique, or of the negress,
which is the real recipe of Madame de Maintenon. She talked of it one
day, when I was present, in the King's carriage. His Majesty said to her:
'I am astonished that, with your natural intelligence, you have not kept
in your mind the nature of this Indian shrub and herbs; with such a
secret you would be able to-day to make many happy, and there are
some kings, who, to grow young again, would give you half their
empire.'
"'I am not a worshipper of riches,' said this mistress of talk; 'bad kings
might offer me all the treasures and crowns they liked, and I would not
make them young again.'
"'And me, madame,' said the prince, 'would you consent to make me
young again?'
"'You will not need it for a long time,' she replied, cleverly, with a
smile; 'but when the moment comes, or is near, I should set about it

with zeal.'
"The whole carriage applauded this reply, and the King took the hand
of the Marquise and insisted on kissing it."

CHAPTER XXIV
.
The Casket of M. de Lauzun.--His Historical Gallery.--He Makes Some
Nuns. --M. de Lauzun in the Lottery.--The Loser Wins.--Queen out of
Pique.-- Letter from the Queen of Portugal.--The Ingratitude of M. de
Lauzun.
Twice during the captivity of M. de Lauzun the Queen of Portugal had
charged