La Grande Mademoiselle had faith in the old traditions. She had always been used to the idea that life would be full enough when she had accomplished her high destiny and perpetuated the noble name borne by her ancestors and she was fully satisfied with the idea that her husband should see in her nothing but the "granddaughter of France," and accept her and her princely estates as he would accept any of the other gifts directly bestowed on noblemen by Divine Providence. Her husband had been ordained her husband from all time; and she was prepared to yield her all to him without a murmur. What though he should be ugly, gouty, doddering--or a babe in arms, "brutal," or an "honest man"? Such details were for the lower orders, they were puerile; unworthy of the attention of a great Princess. He would be the _husband of Mlle. de Montpensier, niece of Louis XIII._, and that would be enough. But in spite of herself she felt a lurking curiosity as to who he should be. What was to be his name.... His Majesty, was he to be a king, "_His Highness_," or simply "_Monseigneur_?" there lay the root of the whole matter.
Of what rank were the wives whose right it was to remain seated in the King's presence, ... and on what did they sit, arm-chairs or armless seats?
_That was the question_, the only consideration of any importance.
We should prefer to think that Mademoiselle mourned because she was reduced by her condition to forget that however princely a marriage may be it must entail a husband, but we are the slaves of truth, we must take our history as we find it, and be the fact pleasing or painful,--here it is: Mademoiselle knew that she should marry the first princely aspirant to her hand, and she was well content to let it be so.
The first to arouse her imagination was one of her mother's ancient lovers, Comte de Soissons, a brilliant soldier, but a man of very ordinary intellect. "M. le Comte" had not only aspired to the favour of Anne-Marie's mother, but he had also addressed her cousin Marie, Duchesse de Montpensier, and so lively had been the wooing that there had been some talk of an abduction. Then Gaston had entered the field and carried off the Duchess, and, gnawed by spite and jealous fury, Soissons had quarrelled with him.