Joachim passed the winter at Saint-Sulpice, but, like Boufflers a little later, far from singing the Canticles, he employed his time in the more mundane occupation of scribbling love-songs.  At the end of the winter he was appointed vicar in a little town of his native department.  “Vicar!” said Joachim; “I’ll not disturb myself for such a trifle.”  Shortly afterward he was nominated Abbe de Bernis; but not a step would he budge from the capital.  In Paris then he remained, penniless it is true, but without a care or thought for the future, and full of confidence in his lucky planet—­a confidence which, it must be said, was not misplaced.  His acquaintance with Madame d’Etioles began through an intrigue which he had with a certain marchande des modes, who worked for the future favorite.  Having perceived the young girl one night at the theater in company with her lover, Madame d’Etioles summoned her the following morning to her house, and in the course of conversation inquired if that handsome young man she had with her at the theater was her cousin.

“No, madame,” replied the milliner; “he is my lover.”

“Ah, indeed! he is your lover is he?  And what does he do?”

“No great things, madame; he makes verses.”

“A maker of verses!” said Madame d’Etioles; “that is amusing.  Do not forget my cap, and tell your young poet to come and see me.”

In consequence of this invitation Bernis called on Madame d’Etioles, who Received him with all the graces in the world, and from that hour commenced a friendship which lasted for many years, and was the origin of De Bernis’ future advancement in the world.

Despite his great acquaintances, our abbe was none the richer; but he laughed gaily at his poverty, and waited for better times.  According to all accounts the garret which he inhabited was in a wretchedly dilapidated condition; his furniture consisted of a “bad bed covered with some mules’ saddle-cloths, which M. de Ferriol had brought from Constantinople, a rickety table covered with books and papers and faded bouquets, and an old worm-eaten arm-chair.”  Our abbe’s purse was no better garnished than his lodgings; and so well-known was this fact in the world, that Senac de Meilhan tells us, that “when the Abbe de Bernis supped out some one of the party always gave him a crown to pay his coach-hire.  At first this gift had been invented as a pleasantry, on the abbe invariably refusing to stay to supper, alleging as an excuse that he had no carriage; but it was a pleasantry which continued for some time.”

In society, however, De Bernis was a general favorite, and was everywhere Welcomed with open arms.  They doated on Bernard, and they doated also on on Bernis.  Voltaire wrote in verse to both, Duclos spoke of their wit, Helvetius gave them suppers, and the women did their best to spoil them.

From Cardinal de Fleury, however, our abbe received a rebuff.  Having, in order to humor his relative the Princess de Rohan, who had lately taken him by the hand, applied to the minster for a convent, the latter sternly replied,—­