“From Venice.”
“I have been there, and have laughed heartily at the recitative in your operas.”
“I believe you, sir, and I feel certain that no one ever thought of objecting to your laughing.”
My answer, rather a sharp one, made Madame de Pompadour laugh, and she asked me whether I truly came from down there.
“What do you mean by down there?”
“I mean Venice.”
“Venice, madam, is not down there, but up there.”
That answer was found more singular than the first, and everybody in the box held a consultation in order to ascertain whether Venice was down or up. Most likely they thought I was right, for I was left alone. Nevertheless, I listened to the opera without laughing; but as I had a very bad cold I blew my nose often. The same gentleman addressing himself again to me, remarked that very likely the windows of my room did not close well. That gentleman, who was unknown to me was the Marechal de Richelieu. I told him he was mistaken, for my windows were well ‘calfoutrees’. Everyone in the box burst into a loud laugh, and I felt mortified, for I knew my mistake; I ought to have said ‘calfeutrees’. But these ‘eus’ and ‘ous’ cause dire misery to all foreigners.
Half an hour afterwards M. de Richelieu asked me which of the two actresses pleased me most by her beauty.
“That one, sir.”