He joined his wife in getting the Prince to see the chasm of unhappiness into which he was going to plunge and how much he owed the Princess; the Countess promised to tell her all that her husband wished.

As he was preparing to leave, the Count stopped him: "To reward the service we are going to render to you at the expense of truth, tell us at least who is this amiable mistress. This person cannot be very estimable to love you and maintain an affair with you, seeing you embarked with a person as beautiful as Madame the Princess of Navarre, seeing you married to her and seeing what you owe her. This person must have neither spirit, nor courage, nor delicacy and, in truth, she doesn't merit your spoiling as great a good fortune as yours and your being so ungrateful and so culpable.

The prince didn't know how to answer; he feigned a reason to hastily leave. The Count of Tende himself showed him out so that he wasn't seen. The Countess stayed there distraught realizing the risk she'd run, reflecting on her husband's words and reviewing the calamities to which her passion was exposing her; but she hadn't the power to disengage herself.

She continued her affair with the Prince; she saw him several times through the intermediary La Lande, her equerry. She felt herself, and indeed was, one of the most unhappy people in the world. Daily, the Princess of Navarre confided in her about the jealousy of which the Countess was the cause; this jealousy pierced her with remorse and, when the Princess of Navarre was content with her husband, she herself was, in turn, pierced by jealousy.

A new torment was added to those she had already: The Count of Tende became as enamored of her as if she hadn't been his wife; he never left her and wanted to retake all his rights, which he had previously spurned.