"
"Let us hope for the best," answered madame de Mirepoix; "it
would be encouraging grief to believe a misfortune, which we have
at present no reason to suspect."
Comte Jean now rejoined us, accompanied by Bordeu and the duc de
Richelieu; their countenances were gloomy and dejected. The
miserable victim of ambition had the symptoms of the most malignant
sort of small-pox; this was a finishing stroke to my previous
alarms. However, comte Jean whispered in my ear, "Bordeu will
arrange that the king shall remain here."
This assurance restored me to something like composure; but
these hopes were speedily dissipated by the arrival of La Martiniere.
"What is the matter?" inquired he, "is the king very ill?"
"That remains for you to decide"; replied the duc de Richelieu;
"but however it may be, madame du Barry entreats of you not to
think of removing the king to Versailles."
"And why so?" asked La Martiniere, with his accustomed abruptness.
"His majesty would be much better there than here."
"He can nowhere be better than at Trianon, monsieur," said I.
"That, madam," answered La Martiniere, "is the only point upon
which you must excuse my consulting you, unless, indeed, you
are armed with a physician's diploma."
"Monsieur la Martiniere," cried the duc de Richelieu, "you might
employ more gentle language when speaking to a lady."
"Was I sent for hither," inquired the angry physician, "to go
through a course of politeness?"
For my own part I felt the utmost dread, I scarcely knew of what.
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