We continued for some minutes silently gazing on the retreating figures of La MartiniÈre and his companions.

“Come,” said the marÉchale, “let us return to the house”; saying which, she supported herself by the arm of comte Jean, whilst I mechanically followed her example, and sadly and sorrowfully we bent our steps beneath the splendid colonnade which formed the entrance to the mansion.

When I reached my chamber, I found mademoiselle du Barry there, still ignorant of the alarming news I had just learned. She earnestly pressed me to return to bed, but this I refused; for my burning anxiety to learn every particular relative to the king would have prevented my sleeping. How different was the style of our present conversation to that of the preceding evening; no sound of gaiety was heard; hushed alike were the witty repartee, and the approving laugh which followed it. Now, we spoke but by fits and starts, with eye and ear on the watch to catch the slightest sound, whilst the most trifling noise, or the opening of a door, made us start with trepidation and alarm. The time appeared to drag on to an interminable length.

At last the duc de Richelieu made his appearance.

“Well, my friends,” said he, “the king is to be removed to Versailles, spite of your wishes, madam, spite of his own royal inclination, and against mine, likewise. La MartiniÈre has thundered forth his edict, and poor Bordeu opposed him in vain. His majesty, who expresses a wish to remain here, stated his pleasure to La MartiniÈre.”

“‘Sire,’ answered the obstinate physician, ‘it cannot be. You are too ill to be permitted to take your choice in the matter, and to the chÂteau at Versailles you must be removed.’

“‘Your words imply my being dangerously indisposed,’ said the king, inquiringly.

“‘Your majesty is sufficiently ill to justify every precaution, and to require our best cares. You must return to the chÂteau; Trianon is not healthy; you will be much better at Versailles.’

“‘Upon my word, doctor,’ replied the king, ‘your words are far from consoling; there must be danger, then, in my present sickness?’

“‘There would be considerable danger were you to remain here, whilst it is very probable you may avoid any chance of it by following my directions with regard to an immediate removal to Versailles.’

“‘I feel but little disposed for the journey,’ said his majesty.

“‘Still, your majesty must be removed, there is an absolute necessity for it, and I take all the responsibility upon myself.’

“‘What do you think of this determination, Bordeu?’

“‘I think, sire, that you may be permitted to please yourself.’

“‘You hear that, La MartiniÈre?’

“‘Yes, sire, and your majesty heard my opinion likewise.’ Then turning towards Bordeu, ‘Sir,’ exclaimed he, ‘I call upon you in my capacity of head physician to the king, to state your opinion in writing, and to abide by the consequences of it; you who are not one of his majesty’s physicians.’

“At this direct appeal, your doctor, driven to extremities, adopted either the wise or cowardly resolution of maintaining a strict silence. The king, who was awaiting his reply with much impatience, perceiving his reluctance to speak, turned towards the duc de Duras, who was in attendance upon him, and said, ‘Let them take me when and where my head physician advises.’”

At this recital I shed fresh tears. The duke afterwards told us that when La MartiniÈre had quitted his majesty, he went to ascertain the condition of the wretched girl who had introduced all this uneasiness among us, and after having attentively examined her, he exclaimed, “She is past all hope, God only knows what the consequences may be.” This gloomy prognostic added still more to my distress, and whilst those around me strove to communicate fresh hopes and confidence to my tortured mind, I remained in a state too depressed and dejected to admit one, even one ray of consolation.

The king was removed from Trianon, followed by all the persons belonging to his suite. The marÉchale insisted upon deferring her departure till I quitted the place. We set out a few minutes after his majesty, and my coachman had orders to observe the same slow pace at which the royal carriage travelled. Scarcely had we reached Versailles, when mechanically directing my eyes towards the iron gate leading to the garden, a sudden paleness overspread my countenance, and a cry of terror escaped me, for, leaning against the gate in question, I perceived that singular being, who, after having foretold my elevation, had engaged to present himself before me, when a sudden reverse was about to overtake me. This unexpected fulfilment of his promise threw me into the most cruel agitation, and I could not refrain from explaining the cause of my alarm to those who were with me. No sooner had I made myself understood than Comte Jean stopped the carriage, and jumped out with the intention of questioning this mysterious visitor. We waited with extreme impatience the return of my brother-in-law, but he came back alone, nor had he been able to discover the least trace of the object of his search. In vain had he employed the two footmen from behind the carriage to examine the different avenues by which he might have retired. Nothing could be heard of him, and I remained, more than ever, convinced that the entire fulfilment of the prophecy was at hand, and that the fatal hour would shortly strike, which would witness my fall from all my pomp and greatness. We continued our route slowly and silently; the marÉchale accompanied me to the door of my apartment, where I bade her adieu, spite of her wish to remain with me; but even her society was now fatiguing to me, and I longed to be alone with merely my own family.

My two sisters-in-law, the wife of comte d’Hargicourt and that of my nephew, were speedily assembled to talk over with me the events of the last twelve hours. I threw myself upon my bed in a state of mental and bodily fatigue, impossible to describe. I strove in vain to collect my ideas, and arm myself for what I well saw was approaching, and the exact appearance of the singular predicter of my destiny prepared me for the rapid accomplishing of all that had been promised.

Louis XV, during this fatal illness, was placed under the care of Bordeu and Lemonnier. No particularly alarming symptoms appeared during that day, and we remained in a state of suspense more difficult to bear than even the most dreadful certainty. As soon as the king felt himself sufficiently recovered from the fatigues of his removal he requested to see me. After bestowing on me the most gratifying marks of the sincerest attachment, he said,

“I am well punished, my dear countess, for my inconstancy towards you, but forgive me. I pray and believe that, however my fancy may wander, my heart is all your own.”

“Is that quite true?” said I, smiling. “Have you not some reservations? Does not a noble female in the Parc-aux-Cerfs come in for a share as well as the baroness de New——k?”

The king pressed my hand, and replied,

“You must not believe all those idle tales; I met the baroness by chance, and, for a time, I thought her pretty. As for the other, if she renders you in any way uneasy, let her be married at once, and sent where we need never see her again.”

“This is, indeed, the language of sincerity,” cried I, “and from this moment I shall have the fullest confidence in you.”

The conversation was carried on for a long while in this strain. The physicians had made so light of the complaint, that the king believed his illness to be merely of a temporary nature, and his gaiety and good spirits returned almost to their natural height. He inquired after madame de Mirepoix, and whether my sisters-in-law were uneasy respecting his state of health. You may imagine that my reply was worded with all the caution necessary to keep him in profound ignorance as to his real condition. When I returned to my apartment I found Bordeu there, who appeared quite at a loss what to say respecting the king’s malady, the symptoms still remained too uncertain to warrant any person in calling it the small-pox.

“And should it prove that horrible complaint?” inquired I.

“There would, in that case, be considerable danger,” replied Bordeu, not without extreme embarrassment..

“Perhaps even to the extinction of all hope?” asked I.

“God alone can tell,” returned Bordeu.

“I understand,” interrupted I, quickly, “and, spite of the mystery with which you would fain conceal the extent of his majesty’s danger, I know, and venture to assert, that you consider him already as dead.”

“Have a care, madam,” exclaimed Bordeu, “how you admit such an idea, and still more of proclaiming it. I pledge you my word that I do not consider the king is in danger; I have seen many cures equally extraordinary with his.”

I shook my head in token of disbelief. I had uttered what I firmly supposed the truth, and the sight of my evil genius in the person of the prophet who had awaited my return to Versailles, turned the encouraging words of Bordeu into a cold, heavy chill, which struck to my heart. Bordeu quitted me to resume his attendance upon the king. After him came the duc d’Aiguillon, whose features bore the visible marks of care and disquiet. He met me with the utmost tenderness and concern, asked of me the very smallest details of the disastrous events of the morning. I concealed nothing from him, and he listened to my recital with the most lively interest; and the account of the apparition of the wonderful being who seemed destined to follow me throughout my career was not the least interesting part of our conversation.

“There are,” said the duke, “many very extraordinary things in this life, reason questions them, philosophy laughs at them, and yet it is impossible to deny that there are various hidden causes, or sudden inspirations, which have the greatest effect upon our destiny. As a proof, I will relate to you the following circumstance. You are aware,” continued the duke, “that the cardinal de Richelieu, the author of our good fortune, spite of the superiority of his mind, believed in judicial astrology. When his own immediate line became extinct by the unexpected death of his family and relatives, he wished to ascertain what would be the fate of those children belonging to his sister, whom he had adopted as the successors of his name, arms, and fortune. The planets were consulted, and the answer received was, that two centuries from the day on which Providence had so highly elevated himself, the family, upon whom rested all his hopes of perpetuating his name, should fail entirely in its male descent. You see that the duc de Fronsac has only one child, an infant not many days old. I also have but one, and these two feeble branches seem but little calculated to falsify the prediction. Judge, my dear countess, how great must be my paternal anxiety!”

This relation on the part of the duc d’Aiguillon was but ill calculated to restore my drooping spirits, and although I had no reason for concluding that the astrologer had spoken prophetically to the grand cardinal, I was not the less inclined to believe, with increased confidence, the predictions uttered respecting myself by my inexplicable visitor of the morning. My ever kind friend, the duchesse d’Aiguillon, was not long ere she too made her appearance, with the view, and in the hope of consoling me. I could not resist her earnest endeavours to rouse me from my grief, and a grateful sense of her goodness obliged me to deck my features with at least the semblance of cheerfulness. Every hour fresh accounts of the king’s health were brought me, of a most encouraging nature; by these bulletins one might naturally suppose him rapidly recovering, and we all began to smile at our folly in having been so soon alarmed; in fact, my spirits rose in proportion as the mysterious visit of my evil genius gradually faded from my recollection.

In this manner the day passed away. I visited the king from time to time, and he, although evidently much oppressed and indisposed, conversed with me without any painful effort. His affection for me seemed to gain fresh strength as his bodily vigour declined, and the fervent attachment he expressed for me, at a time when self might reasonably have been expected to hold possession of his mind, filled me with regret at not being able more fully to return so much tenderness. wished to be alone, the marÉchale de Mirepoix had sent to request a private interview, and I awaited her arrival in my chamber, whilst an immense concourse of visitors filled my salons. The king’s danger was not yet sufficiently decided for the courtiers to abandon me, and the favour to warrant any one of them in withdrawing from me their usual attentions. Comte Jean, however, presented himself before me, spite of the orders I had given to exclude every person but the marÉchale.

“My dear sister,” cried he, as he entered, “Chamilly has just told me that he has received the royal command to have Julie married off without delay; now this is a piece of delicacy towards yourself on the part of the king for which you owe him many thanks. But I have another communication to make you, of a less pleasing nature. The unfortunate girl who has been left at Trianon, has called incessantly for you the whole of this day; she asserts that she has matters of importance to communicate to you.”

Whatever surprise I experienced at this intelligence, it was impossible it could be otherwise than true, for was it likely that, at a time like the present, comte Jean would attempt to impose such a tale upon me.

“What would you have me do?” asked I of my brother-in-law.

“Hark ye, sister,” replied he, “we are both of us in a very critical situation just now, and should spare no endeavour to extricate ourselves from it. Very possibly this girl may be in possession of facts more important than you at present conceive possible; the earnestness with which she perseveres in her desire of seeing you, and her repeated prayers to those around her to beg your attendance, proves that it is something more than the mere whim of a sick person, and in your place, I should not hesitate to comply with her wishes.”

“And how could we do so?” said I.

“To-night,” returned he, “when all your guests have retired, and Versailles is in a manner deserted, I will fetch you; we have keys which open the various gates in the park, and walking through which, and the gardens, we can reach Trianon unobserved. No person will be aware of our excursion, and we shall return with the same caution with which we went. We will, after our visit, cause our clothes to be burnt, take a bath, and use every possible precaution to purify ourselves from all chance of infection. When that is done you may venture into the apartment of his majesty, even if that malady which at present hangs over him should turn out to be the small-pox.”

I thought but little of the consequences of our scheme, or of the personal danger I incurred, and I promised my brother-in-law that I would hold myself in readiness to accompany him. We then conversed together upon the state of the king, and, what you will have some difficulty in crediting, not one word escaped either of us relative to our future plans or prospects; still it was the point to which the thoughts of comte Jean must naturally have turned.

We were interrupted in our tÊte-À-tÊte by the arrival of the marÉchale, whose exactitude I could not but admire. Comte Jean, having hastily paid his compliments, left us together.

“Well, my dear countess,” said she, taking my hand with a friendly pressure, “and how goes on the dear invalid?”

“Better, I hope,” replied I, “and indeed, this illness, at first so alarming to me, seems rather calculated to allay my former fears and anxieties by affording the king calm and impartial reflection; the result of it is that my dreaded rival of the Parc-aux-Cerfs is dismissed.”

“I am delighted to hear this,” replied madame de Mirepoix, “but, my dear soul, let me caution you against too implicitly trusting these deceitful appearances, to-morrow may destroy these flattering hopes, and the next day—”

“Indeed!” cried I, interrupting her, “the physicians answer for his recovery.”

“And suppose they should chance to be mistaken,” returned my cautious friend, “what then? But, my dear countess, my regard or you compels me to speak out, and to warn you of reposing in tranquillity when you ought to be acting. Do not deceive yourself, leave nothing to chance; and if you have any favour to ask of the king, lose no time in so doing while yet you have the opportunity.”

“And what favour would you advise me to ask?” said I

“You do not understand me, then?” exclaimed the marÉchale, “I say that it is imperatively necessary for you to accept whatever the king may feel disposed to offer you as a future provision, and as affording you the means of passing the remainder of your days in ease and tranquillity. What would become of you in case of the worst? Your numerous creditors would besiege you with a rapacity, still further excited by the support they would receive from court. You look at me with surprise because I speak the language of truth; be a reasonable creature I implore of you once in your life, and do not thus sacrifice the interests of your life to a romantic disregard of self.”

I could not feel offended with the marÉchale for addressing me thus, but I could not help fancying the moment was ill chosen, and unable to frame an answer to my mind, I remained silent. Mistaken as to the cause of my taciturnity, she continued,

“Come, I am well pleased to see you thus reflecting upon what I have said; but lose no time, strike the iron while it is hot. Do as I have recommended either to-night or early to-morrow; possibly, after that time it may be too late. May I venture also to remind you of your friends, my dear countess. I am in great trouble just now, and I trust you will not refuse to obtain for me, from his majesty, a favour of which I stand in the utmost need—50,000 francs would come very seasonably; I have lost that sum at cards, and must pay it, but how I know not.”

“Let not that distress you,” said I, “for I can relieve you of that difficulty until the king’s convalescence enables him to undertake the pleasing office of assisting your wishes. M. de Laborde has orders to honour all my drafts upon him, I will therefore draw for the sum you require.” So saying, I hastily scrawled upon a little tumbled piece of paper those magic words, which had power to unlock the strong coffers of a court banker. The marÉchale embraced me several times with the utmost vivacity.

“You are my guardian angel,” cried she, “you save me from despair. But, tell me, my generous friend, do you think M. de Laborde will make any difficulty?”

“Why,” said I, “should you suppose it possible he will do so?”

“Oh, merely on account of present circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“The illness—no, I mean the indisposition of his majesty.”

“He is an excellent man,” said I, “and I doubt not but he will act nobly and honourably.”

“If we could but procure his majesty’s signature—”

“But that is quite impossible to-night.”

“I know it is, and, therefore, I will tell you what I think of doing. Perhaps, if I were to set out for Paris immediately, I might be able to present this cheque before Laborde is acquainted with our misfortune. It is not late, so farewell, my dearest countess. I shall return to-morrow before you are up, but do not forget what I have said to you; and remember, that under any circumstances, the king should secure you a safe and ample independence. If his death finds you well provided for, you will still have a court, friends, relatives, partisans, in a word, the means of gratifying every inclination. Be guided by me, and follow my advice.”

And after this lesson of practical morality, the marÉchale quitted me to hurry to Paris; and I, wearied and heartsick, flew to my crowded salons as a remedy against the gloomy ideas her conversation had given rise to.

On this evening my guests were more numerous and brilliant than usual, for no person entertaining the least suspicion of the king’s danger, all vied with each other in evincing, by their presence, the desire they felt of expressing their regard for me. My friends, acquaintances, people whom I scarcely knew at all, were collected together in my drawing-rooms; this large assemblage of joyous and cheerful faces, drove away for a moment all the gloom which had bung over me. I even forgot the morning’s visitor, and if the health of the king were at all alluded to, it was only en passant. It seemed a generally understood thing not to believe him seriously ill; in fact, to deny all possibility of such a thing being the case. Thus all went on as usual, scandal, slander, epigrams, jeux d’esprits, all the lively nonsense usually circulated upon such occasions, went round, and were laughed at and admired according to the tastes of those to whom they were addressed.

Could a stranger have seen us, so careless, thoughtless, and gay, he would have been far from suspecting that we were upon the eve of a catastrophe which must change the whole face of affairs in France. For my own part, my spirits rose to a height with the giddy crowd around me, and in levity and folly, I really believe I exceeded them.

At a late hour my rooms were at length forsaken, and I retired to my chamber where, having dismissed my other attendants, I remained alone (as was frequently my custom) with my faithful Henriette, whom I caused to exchange my evening dress for a dark robe, which I covered with a large Spanish mantle I had never before worn, and thus equipped, I waited the arrival of comte Jean. Henriette, surprised at these preparations, pressed me with so many questions, that at last I explained my whole purpose to her. The attached creature exerted all her eloquence to point out the dangers of the enterprise, which she implored of me to abandon, but I refused to listen to her remonstrances, and she ceased urging me further, only protesting she should await my return with the most lively impatience.

At length, comte Jean appeared, armed with a small sword-stick and pistols in his pocket, with every other precaution necessary for undertaking so perilous an adventure. We descended into the garden with many smiles at the singular figures we made, but no sooner were we in the open air, than the sight of the clear heavens sparkling with sta lined with statues, which resembled a troop of white phantoms, the gentle waving of the branches, as the evening breeze stirred their leaves, with that feeling of awe and solemnity generally attendant upon the midnight hour, awoke in our minds ideas more suitable to our situation. We ceased speaking and walked slowly down the walk past the basin of the dragon, in order, by crossing the park, to reach the chÂteau de Trianon.

Fortune favoured us, for we met only one guard in the park, this man having recognised us as we drew near, saluted us, and was about to retire, when my brother-in-law called him back an desired him to take our key, and open with it the nearest gates to the place which we wished to go to. He also commanded him to await our return. The soldier was accustomed to these nocturnal excursions even on the part of the most scrupulous and correct gentlemen and ladies of the court. He, therefore, assured us of his punctuality, and opened for us a great iron gate, which it would have cost my brother-in-law much trouble to have turned upon its hinges.

The nearer we approached the end of our journey, the more fully did our minds become impressed with new and painful disquietudes. At length, we reached the place of our destination.

My brother-in-law desired he might be announced but said nothing of who I was. We were expected, for a Swiss belonging to the palace conducted us to a chamber at one end of the chÂteau, where, stretched on a bed of loathsome disease, was the creature who, but a few hours before, had been deemed worthy the embraces of a powerful monarch. Beside her were an elderly female, her mother, and an aged priest, who had been likewise summoned by the unfortunate girl, and her brother, a young man of about twenty-four years of age, with an eye of fire, and a frame of Herculean power. He was sitting with his back turned towards the door; the mother, half reclining on the bed, held in her hand a handkerchief steeped in her tears, while the ecclesiastic read prayers to them from a book which he held. A nurse, whom we had not before perceived, answered the call of the Swiss, and inquired of him what he wanted.

“I want nothing, myself,” answered he, “but here is comte Jean du Barry with a lady from Versailles; they say they come at the request of mademoiselle Anne.”

We were now on the threshold of the door, and the nurse, crossing the chamber, spoke to the mother, who hastily rose, while the priest discontinued his prayers. The mother looked at us, then whispered some words to her daughter. The patient stirred in her bed, and the nurse returning to us, said to comte Jean that he might approach the bed of the invalid.

He advanced and I followed him, although the noisome effluvia with which the air was loaded produced a sickness I scarcely could surmount. The gloom of the place was still further increased by the dim light of two wax candles placed in a nook of the room.

The priest, having recognised my brother-in-law, and suspecting doubtless who I was, was preparing to withdraw, but the sick girl made signs for him to remain. He obeyed, but removing to a distance, he took his place beside the young man, who, understanding only that strangers had arrived, rose from his seat and displayed his tall gigantic height to the fullest advantage.