“Nothing from your lips if you please, my polite brother,” cried I, interrupting him, “nothing you will say in your present humour can be at all to my taste.”
Chon interfered between us, and effected a reconciliation, which I was the more willing to listen to, that I might enjoy that sleep my weary eye-lids craved for. Scarcely was my head on my pillow, than I fell into a profound sleep: could I but have anticipated to what I should awake! It was eleven o’clock on the following morning when an immense noise of some person entering my chamber, aroused me from the sweet slumbers I was still buried in. Vexed at the disturbance, I inquired, in a peevish tone, “Who is there?”
“Tis I, my sister,” replied Chon, “M. de Chamilly is here, anxious to speak with you upon a matter of great importance.”
Chamilly, who was close behind mademoiselle du Barry, begged to be admitted.
“What is the matter, Chamilly?” cried I, “and what do you want? Is mademoiselle Julie to set off into the country immediately?”
“Alas! madam,” replied Chamilly, “his majesty is extremely ill.”
These words completely roused me, and raising myself on my arm, I eagerly repeated, “Ill! of what does he complain?”
“Of general and universal pain and suffering,” replied Chamilly.
“And the female who was here last night, how is she?”
“Nearly as bad, madam; she arose this morning complaining of illness and languor, which increased so rapidly, that she was compelled to be carried to one of the nearest beds, where she now is.”