“You do well, monsieur le duc,” said the king, with cool gravity, “I am much vexed at all that is going on, and have resolved not to suffer it any longer.”
The decision of this discourse made a deep impression M. de Choiseul: he sought to conceal it whilst he replied:
“It is difficult, sire, to make women listen to reason.”
“All are not unreasonable,” rejoined the king: “your wife, for instance, is a model of reason and wisdom: she has perfect control of herself. She is the wise woman of scripture.”
This flattery and justly merited eulogium, which the king made of the duchess whenever he found an opportunity, was the more painful to M. de Choiseul, as his conduct was not irreproachable towards a woman whose virtues he alone did not justly appreciate. It was a direct satire against his sister’s conduct, whose ascendancy over him, her brother, the king well knew. He replied that the good behavior of his wife was the safeguard of his family, and he greatly regretted that the duchesse de Grammont had not a right to the same eulogium.
“I beg you,” said the prince, “to engage her to change her language, and to conduct herself with less boldness, if she would not have me force her to repent.”
“That, sire, is a mission painful to fulfil, and words very hard to convey to her.”
“So much the worse for her,” replied the king, elevating his voice, “if she bear any friendship for you, let her prove it in this particular: your interests should keep her mouth shut.”
The duke had no difficulty to comprehend the indirect menace implied: he instantly renewed his regrets for the disagreeable disturbances that had occurred.
“Add insulting,” said Louis XV. “I am content with you and your services, duke. I have just proved this to you, by giving your brother more than he could expect from me; but have not I the right to have my intimacies respected? It appears to me that if you spoke more decidedly in your family you would command more attention.”