“It is no joke, I promise you,” exclaimed the maréchale; “the death of madame Brillant is a positive calamity to madame de Luxembourg. Letters of condolence will arrive from Chanteloup; madame du Deffant will be in deep affliction, and the virtues and amiable qualities of the deceased cat will long furnish subjects of conversation.”
“It was then a singularly engaging animal, I presume?”
“On the contrary, one of the most stupid, disagreeable, and dirty creatures of its kind; but still it was the cat of madame de Luxembourg.”
And after this funeral oration the maréchale and myself burst into a violent fit of laughter.
When the king joined us, I acquainted him with this death, and my conversation with the maréchale. Louis XV listened to my recital with an air of gravity; when I had finished, he said, “The present opportunity is admirably adopted for satisfying the request of one of my retinue, one of the best-hearted creatures, and at the same time one of the silliest men in the kingdom.”
“I beg your pardon, sire,” cried I, “but what is his name? For the description is so general, that I fear lest I should be at a loss to recollect of whom you are speaking.”
“You are very ill-natured,” cried Louis XV, “and I hardly know whether you deserve to be gratified by hearing the name of the poor gentleman: however, I will tell it to you; he is called Corbin de la Chevrollerie. A few days since this simple young man, having solicited an audience, informed me, that he was desirous of marrying a rich heiress, but that the young lady’s family were resolved she should marry no one who was not previously employed as an ambassador. I expressed my surprise at so strange a caprice, but the poor fellow endeavored to vindicate his bride’s relations, by stating that that they were willing to consider him as my ambassador if I would only commission him to carry some message of compliment or condolence. Accordingly I promised to employ him upon the occasion of the first death or marriage which should take place in a ducal family. Now, I think I cannot do better than make him the bearer of my inquiries after the maréchale de Luxembourg.”
This idea struck me as highly amusing, and I immediately dispatched a servant to summon M. de la Chevrollerie to the presence of the king. This being done, that gentleman presented himself with all the dignity and importance of one who felt that a mission of high moment was about to be entrusted to him.
His majesty charged him to depart immediately to the house of madame de Luxembourg, and to convey his royal master’s sincere condolences for the heavy loss she had sustained in madame Brillant.
M. Corbin de la Chevrollerie departed with much pride and self-complacency upon his embassy: he returned in about half an hour.