At the beginning of October, news reached the Court, which was at Fontainebleau, that M. de Duras was at the point of death.  Upon hearing this, Madame de Saint-Simon and Madame de Lauzun, who were both related to M. Duras, wished to absent themselves from the Court performances that were to take place in the palace that evening.  They expressed this wish to Madame de Bourgogne, who approved of it, but said she was afraid the King would not do the same.  He had been very angry lately because the ladies had neglected to go full dressed to the Court performances.  A few words he had spoken made everybody take good care not to rouse his anger on this point again.  He expected so much accordingly from everybody who attended the Court, that Madame de Bourgogne was afraid he would not consent to dispense with the attendance of Madame de Saint-Simon and Madame de Lauzun on this occasion.  They compromised the matter, therefore, by dressing themselves, going to the room where the performance was held, and, under pretext of not finding places, going away; Madame de Bourgogne agreeing to explain their absence in this way to the King.  I notice this very insignificant bagatelle to show how the King thought only of himself, and how much he wished to be obeyed; and that that which would not have been pardoned to the nieces of a dying man, except at the Court, was a duty there, and one which it needed great address to escape from, without seriously infringing the etiquette established.

After the return of the Court from Fontainebleau this year, Puysieux came back from Switzerland, having been sent there as ambassador.  Puysieux was a little fat man, very agreeable, pleasant, and witty, one of the best fellows in the world, in fact.  As he had much wit, and thoroughly knew the King, he bethought himself of making the best of his position; and as his Majesty testified much friendship for him on his return, and declared himself satisfied with his mission in Switzerland, Puysieux asked if what he heard was not mere compliment, and whether he could count upon it.  As the King assured him that he might do so, Puysieux assumed a brisk air, and said that he was not so sure of that, and that he was not pleased with his Majesty.

“And why not?” said the King.

“Why not?” replied Puysieux; “why, because although the most honest man in your realm, you have not kept to a promise you made me more than fifty years ago.”

“What promise?” asked the King.

“What promise, Sire?” said Puysieux; “you have a good memory, you cannot have forgotten it.  Does not your Majesty remember that one day, having the honour to play at blindman’s buff with you at my grandmother’s, you put your cordon bleu on my back, the better to hide yourself; and that when, after the game, I restored it to you, you promised to give it me when you became master; you have long been so, thoroughly master, and nevertheless that cordon bleu is still to come.”