“That was because she loved revenge better than she loved your majesty. As for me, I should be miserable if I were the cause of one single family complaining against you.”
The king, delighted at these words, which really came from my heart, embraced me tenderly two or three times, and said,
“I wish your enemies could understand you, for they would soon be at your knees. But if we imprison or exile no person, how shall we strike terror into them?”
“It is not terror but envy that I would excite. Let me be presented at court, and all my wishes will be satisfied.”
“I cannot for the life of me divine why you should lay so much stress on coming to weary yourself with the ceremonies of myself and daughters. Heaven preserve you from all the irksomeness of court ceremony!” And Louis XV sighed. “Did you ever think,” he added, “of all the vanities, all the interests I have to manage; all the intrigues that are perpetually agitating, and all the opposition made to me? The court, the city, the people, will rise against me: they will clamor, groan, complain; verse, prose, epigram, and pamphlet will appear in uninterrupted succession. You would be first attacked, and hatred will perhaps extend to me. I shall see again the times when the Damiens, in the name of the parliaments, as one party says, in the name of the Jesuits, as the other party says, and, what is more true, in the name—”
The king suddenly paused; a deep shade of melancholy settled on his features, his noble head dropped on his bosom. Louis XV remained for some time motionless; at length,
“Well,” he exclaimed, attempting to force a smile, “well! I will write to the ladies de Grammont, to inform them that they need not give themselves the trouble to remain near me at the château.”
On his saying these words I darted towards the door, and went into my chamber. The king followed, and finding there mademoiselle Chon, who was working at some tapestry, said to her,
“Mademoiselle, I confide to your care, and by oral lettre de cachet, the most amiable little devil in France. And now, mademoiselle du Barry, having nothing further to add, I pray God to take you to His powerful and holy keeping.”
After this pleasantry the king, delighted at the gay termination of a somewhat serious scene, went, or rather vanished; for to use a proverbial expression, he ran like a thief.