The sight of her imparted
fresh courage to me, and I even resumed my usual high spirits, and
in the sudden turn my ideas had taken, was childish enough to
express my regrets for the loss of my downy and luxurious bed at
Versailles, complaining of the woful difference between it and
the one I had slept on at Ruel.
The duchesse d'Aiguillon, who must have pitied the puerility of
such a remark, gently endeavoured to reconcile me to it by reminding
me that both the marquise de Pompadour and the cardinal de
Richelieu had reposed upon that very couch.
I endeavoured to return some sportive reply, but my thoughts had
flown back to Versailles, and my momentary exhilaration was at
an end. Tears rose to my eyes and choked my attempts at conversation;
I therefore begged the duchess would excuse me, and retired to my
apartment until I could compose myself; but the kind and attentive
friend to whose hospitality I was then confided needed no further
mention of my hard couch, but caused the best bed Ruel contained
to be prepared for me by the time I again pressed my pillow.
This same evening brought M. de Cosse, who could no longer repress
his impatience to assure me of his entire devotion. He appeared
on this occasion, if possible, more tender and more respectful
in his manner of evincing it than ever.
We supped together without form or ceremony, the party consisting
of mesdames d'Aiguillon, de Forcalquier, and myself, mademoiselle
du Barry, and the vicomtesse Adolphe, the prince de Soubise and
the duc de Cosse.
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