"Sire," I replied, "Your Majesty is making innuendoes against me."
The King, undecided, hesitated; then, taking his resolution:
"I have something on my mind: you dealt me devilish hard measure in the first part of your speech in the House of Peers." And at once the King, without giving me the time to answer, cried, "Oh, the end, the end!... The empty grave at Saint-Denis.... That was admirable! That was very fine, very fine! Do not let us talk of it any more. I did not want to keep that... it's done with, it's done with." And he excused himself for venturing to risk those few words. I kissed the royal hand with pious respect.
"Let me tell you," Charles X. resumed: "perhaps I was wrong not to defend myself at Rambouillet; I still had great resources... but I did not want blood to flow for me; I retired."
I did not combat this noble excuse; I replied:
"Sire, Bonaparte retired twice like Your Majesty, in order not to prolong the ills of France."
I thus put the weakness of my old King under the shelter of Napoleon's glory.
The children arrived and we went up to them. The King spoke of Mademoiselle's age:
"What, you little doll," he exclaimed, "are you fourteen already?"
"Oh, when I'm fifteen!" said Mademoiselle.