There were always some moments of conversation before the Dauphin set himself down at his bureau, and ordered me to place myself opposite him.  Having become more free with him, I took the liberty to say one day in these first moments of our discourse, that he would do well to bolt the door behind him, the door I mean of the Dauphine’s chamber.  He said that the Dauphine would not come, it not being her hour.  I replied that I did not fear that princess herself, but the crowd that always accompanied her.  He was obstinate, and would not bolt the door.  I did not dare to press him more.  He sat down before his bureau, and ordered me to sit also.  Our deliberation was long; afterwards we sorted our papers.  Here let me say this—­Every time I went to see the Dauphin I garnished all my pockets with papers, and I often smiled within myself passing through the Salon, at seeing there many people who at that moment were in my pockets, and who were far indeed from suspecting the important discussion that was going to take place.  To return:  the Dauphin gave, me his papers to put in my pockets, and kept mine.  He locked up some in his cupboard, and instead of locking up the others in his bureau, kept them out, and began talking to me, his back to the chimney, his papers in one hand, his keys in the other.  I was standing at the bureau looking for some other papers, when on a sudden the door in front of me opened, and the Dauphine entered!

The first appearance of all three—­for, thank God! she was alone—­the astonishment, the countenance of all have never left my memory.  Our fixed eyes, our statue-like immobility, and our embarrassment were all alike, and lasted longer than a slow Pater-poster.  The Princess spoke first.  She said to the Prince in a very ill-assured voice, that she had not imagined him in such good company; smiling upon him and upon me.  I had scarce time to smile also and to lower my eyes, before the Dauphin replied.

“Since you find me so,” said he, smiling in turn, “leave me so.”

For an instant she looked on him, he and she both smiling at each other more; then she looked on me, still smiling with greater liberty than at first, made a pirouette, went away and closed the door, beyond the threshold of which she had not come.

Never have I seen woman so astonished; never man so taken aback, as the Prince after the Dauphine’s departure; and never man, to say truth, was so afraid as I was at first, though I quickly reassured myself when I found that our intruder was alone.  As soon as she had closed the door, “Well, Monsieur,” said I to the Dauphin, “if you had drawn the bolt?”

“You were right,” he replied, “and I was wrong.  But no harm is done.  She was alone fortunately, and I guarantee to you her secrecy.”

“I am not troubled,” said I to him, (yet I was so mightily) “but it is a miracle she was alone.  With her suite you would have escaped with a scolding perhaps but for me, I should have been utterly lost.”