CHAPTER XXXII
A prefatory remark—Madame Brillant—The maréchale de
Luxembourg’s cat—Despair of the maréchale—The ambassador,
Beaumarchais, and the duc de Chaulnes—the comte d’Aranda—
Louis XV and his relics—The abbé de Beauvais—His sermons—
He is appointed bishop
When I related to comte Jean my reconciliation with the duc de Richelieu, and the sum which this treaty had cost me, my brother-in-law flew into the most violent fury; he styled the maréchal a plunderer of the public treasury. Well may the scripture tell us we see the mote in our neighbor’s eye, but regard not the beam which is in our own eye. I was compelled to impose silence on comte Jean, or in the height of his rage he would have offered some insult to the old maréchal, who already most heartily disliked him for the familiarity of his tone and manner towards him. I did all in my power to keep these two enemies from coming in each other’s way, counselled to that by the maréchale de Mirepoix, whose line of politics was of the most pacific nature; besides I had no inclination for a war carried on in my immediate vicinity, and, for my own part, so far from wishing to harm any one, I quickly forgave every affront offered to myself.
But hold! I perceive I am running on quite smoothly in my own praise. Indeed, my friend, it is well I have taken that office upon myself, for I fear no one else would undertake it. The most atrocious calumnies have been invented against me; I have been vilified both in prose and verse; number of persons on whom I have conferred the greatest obligations, none has been found with sufficient courage or gratitude to stand forward and undertake my defence. I do not even except madame de Mirepoix, whose conduct towards me in former days was marked by the most studied attention. She came to me one evening, with a face of grief.
“Mercy upon me,” cried I, “what ails you?”
“Alas!” replied she, in a piteous tone, “I have just quitted a most afflicted family; their loss is heavy and irreparable. The maréchale de Luxembourg is well nigh distracted with grief.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed I, “can the duchesse de Lauzun be dead?”
“Alas! no.”
“Perhaps poor madame de Boufflers?”