“Do not say so in a loud tone,” he replied laughingly; “her joy would know no bounds if she could believe it was in her power to inspire you with jealousy.”
“But,” I said, “that insolent Guémenée; has she also to plume herself on your favors as an excuse for overpowering me with her hatred, and for tearing me to pieces in the way she does?”
“No,” was the king’s answer; “she is wrong, and I will desire her father-in-law to say so.”
“And I will come to an explanation with the prince de Soubise on this point; and we will see whether or not I will allow myself to have my throat cut like an unresisting sheep.”
I did not fail to keep my word. The prince de Soubise came the next morning; chance on that day induced him to be extraordinarily gallant towards me; never had he praised me so openly, or with so much exaggeration. I allowed him to go on; but when at length he had finished his panegyric, “Monsieur le maréchal,” said I to him, “you are overflowing with kindness towards me, and I wish that all the members of your family would treat me with the same indulgence.”
Like a real courtier he pretended not to understand me, and made no reply, hoping, no doubt, that the warmth of conversation would lead me to some other subject; but this one occupied me too fully to allow me to divert my attention from it; and, seeing that he continued silent, I continued, “madame your daughter-in-law behaves towards me like a declared enemy; she assails me by all sorts of provocation, and at last will so act, that I shall find myself compelled to struggle against her with open force.”
You must be a courtier, you must have been in the presence of a king who is flattered from morning to night in all his caprices, to appreciate the frightful state in which my direct attack placed the prince de Soubise. Neither his political instinct, nor the tone of pleasantry which he essayed to assume, nor the more dangerous resource of offended dignity, could extricate him from the embarrassment in which he was thrown by my words. He could do nothing but stammer out a few unintelligible phrases; and his confusion was so great and so visible, that the marquis de Chauvelin, his not over sincere friend, came to his assistance. The king, equally surprised at what I had just said, hastily turned and spoke to Chon, who told me afterwards, that the astonishment of Louis XV had been equal to that of the prince de Soubise, and that he had evinced it by the absence of mind which he had manifested in his discourse and manners.
M. de Chauvelin then turning towards me, said, “Well, madame, on what evil herb have you walked to-day? Can it be possible that you would make the prince, who is your friend, responsible for the hatred which ought to be flattering rather than painful to you, since it is a homage exacted towards your brilliant loveliness?”
“In the first place,” I replied, “I have no intention to cast on monsieur le maréchal, whom I love with all my heart, the least responsibility relative to the object of which I complain. I only wished to evince to him the regret I experienced at not seeing all the members of his family like him: this is all. I should be in despair if I thought I had said anything that would wound him; and if I have done so, I most sincerely ask his pardon.”
On saying these words I presented my hand to the prince, who instantly kissed it.