Cardinal Latil, wishing to escape the hubbub, had gone to spend a few days with the Duc de Rohan[265]. M. de Foresta[266] passed by mysteriously with his portfolio under his his arm; Madame de Bouille made me deep courtesies, like a party-person, with lowered eyes that tried to see through their lids; M. La Villate was waiting to receive his dismissal; there was no longer any question of M. Barrande, who cherished the hope of being restored to favour and was living in a corner in Prague.
The Dauphin.
I went to pay my court to the Dauphin. Our conversation was brief:
"How does Monseigneur find himself at Butschirad?"
"Getting oldish."
"We're all doing that, Monseigneur."
"How's your wife?"
"Monseigneur, she has the tooth-ache."
"Inflammation?"
"No, Monseigneur: age."