This scene lasted for some minutes, after which I was retiring, but the king called me back, seized my hand, which he tenderly kissed, and then whispered an affectionate “Adieu.” These were the last words I ever heard from his lips.
Upon re-entering my apartments I found madame de Mirepoix awaiting me, to whom I related all that had taken place, expressing, at the same time, my earnest hope of being again summoned, ere long, to the presence of my friend and benefactor.
“Do not deceive yourself, my dear,” said she; “depend upon it you have had your last interview; you should have employed it more profitably. His portrait! why, if I mistake not, you have five already. Why did you not carry about with you some deed of settlement ready for signature? he would have denied you nothing at such a moment, when you may rest assured he knew himself to be taking his last farewell.”
“Is it possible?” exclaimed I. “And can you really suppose the king believed he spoke to me for the last time?”
“I have not the slightest doubt of it; I have known him for many a day. He remembers the scene of Metz, and looks upon you as forming the second edition of the poor duchesse de Chateauroux, who, by the by, was not equal to you in any respect.”
I burst into a fit of tears, but not of regret for having allowed my late interview with the king to pass in so unprofitable a manner. However, the maréchale, misconceiving the cause of this burst of grief, exclaimed, “Come, come; it is too late now, and all your sorrow cannot recall the last half-hour. But, mademoiselle du Barry,” continued she, “I advise you to commence your packing up at once, that when the grand move comes you may not in your hurry, leave anything behind you.”
These remarks increased my affliction, but the maréchale had no intention of wounding my feelings, and worldly-minded as she was, considered all that could be saved out of the wreck as the only subject worthy attention. Meanwhile, comte Jean, with a gloomy and desponding air, continued silently with folded arms to pace the room, till all at once, as if suddenly struck by the arguments of madame de Mirepoix, he exclaimed,
“The maréchale is right”; and abruptly quitted the apartment, as if to commence his own preparations.
Ere madame de Mirepoix had left me and she remained till a late hour, the ducs d’Aiguillon and de Cossé arrived, who, although less experienced in their knowledge of the king’s character, were yet fully of her opinion respecting my last visit to him.
Scarcely had these visitors withdrawn, than I was apprized that the chancellor of France desired to see me. He was admitted, and the first glance of the countenance of M. de Maupeou convinced me that our day of power was rapidly closing.