"He showed me your portrait, and be not offended,
Madame, when I tell you that I have taken the liberty
of giving that the two kisses."
Perhaps Voltaire would not have written this letter, had he not
read the one written by the King to the Duc de Choiseul, who
refused to pay court to the left-hand queen:
"My Cousin,
"The discontent which your acts cause me forces me to
exile you to Chanteloup, where you will take yourself
within twenty-four hours. I would have sent you farther
away were it not for the particular esteem in which I
hold Madame de Choiseul. With this, I pray God, my
cousin, to take you into His safe and holy protection.
"Louis."
This exile was the only crime of the courtesan. On none of her
enemies did she close the gates of the Bastille. And more than
once did she place a pen in the hands of Louis XV with which to
sign a pardon. Sometimes, indeed, she was ironic in her compassion.
"Madame," said M. de Sartines to her one day, "I have discovered
a rogue who is scattering songs about you; what is to be done with him?"
"Sentence him to sing them for a livelihood."
But she afterwards made the mistake of pensioning Chevalier de
Morande to buy silence.
The pleasures of the King and his favorite were troubled only by
the fortune-tellers. Neither the King nor the countess believed in
the predictions of the philosophers, but they did believe in
divination.
Pages:
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32