Claudine Alexandrine Guérin de Tencin, the foremost figure in the salon life of the day, was a devoted friend to Mme. de Châteauroux. The favorite's grand manner and unapproachable bearing were after her own heart, and, since Marie Anne's accession to the highest post at Court, the leader of the salons had actually curbed her wit on behalf of her friend, and refrained from two excellent epigrams that would have seemed to slur the favorite's beauty and taste. It was but this afternoon that, in her small boudoir, Mme. de Tencin, with Victorine de Coigny and François de Bernis, had carried on a very animated discussion relative to the recent affair at Metz. After tea the abbé returned to the Lazariste, while Victorine, who had no life left after his departure, promised to remain with her friend during the evening.
Paris was empty at this season, and the regular salons were closed. The Duchesse du Maine had carried off all her pet philosophers and literati to Sceaux. That small portion of the Court which had not contrived to follow the army was scattered over France. The very Opera was shut. And thus Mme. de Tencin and Victorine resigned themselves to the most stupid of evenings after their small supper. At something after seven o'clock, however, the first valet appeared on the threshold of the small white-and-gold room, with the announcement:
"The Duchesse de Lauraguais. The Duchesse de Châteauroux."
Mme. de Tencin sprang to her feet. From just outside came the stiff rustle of feminine garments.
"Marie!"
"Claudine!"
The two women flung themselves into each other's arms, touched cheeks, first on one side, then on the other, and finally Mme. de Tencin held the Duchess off at arm's-length, gazed at her through a river of tears, and murmured, in a transport of grief: "My poor Anne!"
"Claudine! Cl—audine!"
Thereupon Mme. de Châteauroux closed her eyes and gracefully fainted away. Elise screamed. Mme. de Tencin, with moans of compassion, supported her beloved friend, and Victorine, shaking with inward laughter, ran away for sal-volatile, a glass of wine, and a fan. When she returned with these necessaries, la Châteauroux, reclining upon a satin sofa, was aristocratically reviving. After a few moments' application of the fan and salts, coupled by the consumption of the cordial, she was sufficiently restored to greet Victorine affectionately, and to recount, with a thousand airs and as many variations, her own story. It was a pathetic recital. Elise wept unrestrainedly, and even Mme. de Coigny became absorbed before the climax was reached.
"And so, actually, it was Maurepas, Anne, who betrayed you?"