This letter put me in an excessively ill-humor. I saw my presentation deferred till doom's day, or, at least, adjourned <sine die>. Iquestioned my friends: the unanimous advice was that I ought to mention it to the king at one of his evening visits; and I determined to do so without loss of time.
When his majesty came I received him very graciously, and then said to him,"Congratulate me, sire; I have found my godmother.""Ah, so much the better." (I know that, at the bottom of his heart, he said "so much the <worse>.")"And who," asked the king, with impatience, "may the lady be?""Madame de Bearn, a lady of quality in her own right, and of high nobility on her husband's side.""Yes, he was a <garde du corps>, and the son has just left the pages. Ah! she will present you then. That's well; I shall feel favored by her.""Would it not be best, sire, to tell her so yourself?""Yes, yes, certainly; but after the ceremony.""And why not previously?"
"Why? because I do not wish to appear to have forced your presentation.""Well, then," I replied, striking the floor with my foot, "you will not do for me what you would do for a woman who is a complete stranger to you. Many thanks for your excessive kindness.""Well, well, do not scold. Anger does not become you.""No more than this indifference suits you; it is cruel. If you recede from saying a word, what will you do when I tell you of the conditions of madame de Bearn?""What does the good comtesse ask for?"
"Things past conception."
"What?"
"She has stipulations unlimited."
"But what are they then?"
"A hundred thousand livres for herself."
"What, only that? We will grant so much.""Then a regiment for her son."
"Oh, he is the wood they make colonels of, and if he behave well--""But then! She wishes to be annexed in some station or other to the household of the future <dauphine>.""Oh, that is impossible: all the selections have been made: but we will make an equivalent by placing one of her family about the person of one of the princes, my grandson. Is this all?""Yes, sire, that is all, with one small formality excepted. This lady, who is one of much punctilio, only considers <written>
engagements as binding. She wishes for one word in your majesty's hand-writing--""A most impertinent woman!" cried the king, walking with rapid strides up and down my room.-- "She has dared not to believe me on my word! Writing!--signature! She mistrusts me as she would the lowest scribbler of France. A writing! My signature! My grandfather, Louis XIV, repented having given his to Charost. Iwill not commit a similar error."
"But, sire, when a prince has a real desire to keep his word, it is of little import whether he gives it in writing."At these words, Louis XV frowned sternly, but as he had the best sense in the world, he saw that he was wrong; and having no reply to make, he determined to flee away. I ran after him, and taking him by the arm, he said, with assumed anger, which did not deceive me:--"Leave me, madame, you have offended my honor.""Well, then, monsieur la France," replied I, assuming also a scolding tone, "I will give you satisfaction. Choose your time, weapons, and place; I will meet you, and we shall see whether you have courage to kill a woman who lives for you only, and whom you render the most miserable creature in existence."Louis XV gave me a kiss, and laughingly said, "I ought to make you sleep in the Bastille to-night.""I am then more merciful than you, for I think I shall make you sleep in the couch you love best."This reply amused the king excessively, and he himself proposed to send for madame de Bearn. I should speak of my presentation before him, and then without ****** any positive concession, he would see what could be done to satisfy her.
For want of any other, I accepted this <mezzo termine>.
