Her family had proposed to marry her to the gay and witty Marshal
de Bassompierre; and although his heart was not at all engaged,
the marshal found the match extremely suitable, and was willing
enough, until the King declared himself. Henry used the most
impudent frankness.
"Bassompierre, I will speak to you as a friend," said he. "I am in
love, and desperately in love, with Mademoiselle de Montmorency.
If you should marry her I should hate you. If she should love me
you would hate me. A breach of our friendship would desolate me,
for I love you with sincere affection."
That was enough for Bassompierre. He had no mind to go further
with a marriage of convenience which in the sequel would most
probably give him to choose between assuming the ridiculous role
of a complacent husband and being involved in a feud with his
prince. He said as much, and thanked the King for his frankness,
whereupon Henry, liking him more than ever for his good sense,
further opened his mind to him.
"I am thinking of marrying her to my nephew, Conde. Thus I shall
have her in my family to be the comfort of my old age, which is
coming on. Conde, who thinks of nothing but hunting, shall have a
hundred thousand livres a year with which to amuse himself.
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