such and such a province;” and he thereupon gave a description of three or four fine seats.  About a month after, talking of the disgrace of a Minister, he said, “I hope your Majesty will not withdraw your favour from me; but if I had the misfortune to lose it, I should be more to be pitied than anybody, for I have no asylum in which to hide my head.”  All those present, who had heard the description of the beautiful country houses, looked at each other and laughed.  The King said to Madame de Pompadour, who sat next to him at table, “People are very right in saying that a liar ought to have a good memory.”

An event, which made me tremble, as well as Madame, procured me the familiarity of the King.  In the middle of the night, Madame came into my chamber, en chemise, and in a state of distraction.  “Here!  Here!” said she, “the King is dying.”  My alarm may be easily imagined.  I put on a petticoat, and found the King in her bed, panting.  What was to be done?—­it was an indigestion.  We threw water upon him, and he came to himself.  I made him swallow some Hoffman’s drops, and he said to me, “Do not make any noise, but go to Quesnay; say that your mistress is ill; and tell the Doctor’s servants to say nothing about it.”  Quesnay, who lodged close by, came immediately, and was much astonished to see the King in that state.  He felt his pulse, and said, “The crisis is over; but, if the King were sixty years old, this might have been serious.”  He went to seek some drug, and, on his return, set about inundating the King with perfumed water.  I forget the name of the medicine he made him take, but the effect was wonderful.  I believe it was the drops of General Lamotte.  I called up one of the girls of the wardrobe to make tea, as if for myself.  The King took three cups, put on his robe de chambre and his stockings, and went to his own room, leaning upon the Doctor.  What a sight it was to see us all three half naked!  Madame put on a robe as soon as possible, and I did the same, and the King changed his clothes behind the curtains, which were very decently closed.  He afterwards spoke of this short attack, and expressed his sense of the attentions shown him.  An hour after, I felt the greatest possible terror in thinking that the King might have died in our hands.  Happily, he quickly recovered himself, and none of the domestics perceived what had taken place.  I merely told the girl of the wardrobe to put everything to rights, and she thought it was Madame who had been indisposed.  The King, the next morning, gave secretly to Quesnay a little note for Madame, in which he said, Ma chere amie must have had a great fright, but let her reassure herself—­I am now well, which the Doctor will certify to you. From that moment the King became accustomed to me, and, touched by the interest I had shown for him, he often gave me one of his peculiarly gracious glances, and made me little presents, and, on every New Year’s Day, sent