"
"I, like you, think that there is in him something of the infernal
stone: he burns you on the slightest touch. But now, to this
letter; you will see what he says to you. He begs me most
particularly to conceal from every body the step he has taken
with you. What he most dreads is, lest you should proclaim from
the housetops that he is in correspondence with you. I conjure
you, on his behalf, to exercise the greatest discretion, and I
think that you are interested in doing so; for, if what he has done
should be made public, he will not fail to exercise upon you the
virulence of his biting wit."
Our conversation was interrupted by a stir which we heard in the
chateau, and which announced to us the king. The marechal hastily
desired me not to show Voltaire's letter to the king until I had
read it previously to myself. "He does not like this extraordinary
man," he added, "and accuses him of having failed in respect,
and perhaps you will find in this paper some expression which
may displease him."
Scarcely had I put the epistle in my pocket, when the king entered.
"What are you talking about," said he, "you seem agitated?"
"Of M. de Voltaire, sire," I replied, with so much presence of
mind as to please the duc de Richelieu.
"What, is he at his tricks again? Have you any cause of complaint
against him?"
"Quite the reverse; he has charged M. d'Argental to say to M.
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