that both mother and child are beautiful creatures,” said Madame—­“not to mention the father; the infant has his eyes.  If the King had come up while we were there, do you think he would have recognised us?”—­“I don’t doubt that he would, Madame, and then what an agitation I should have been in, and what a scene it would have been for the bystanders! and, above all, what a surprise to her!” In the evening, Madame made the King a present of the cups she had bought, but she did not mention her walk, for fear Mademoiselle Romans should tell him that two ladies, who knew him, had met her there such a day.  Madame de Mirepoix said to Madame, “Be assured, the King cares very little about children; he has enough of them, and he will not be troubled with the mother or the son.  See what sort of notice he takes of the Comte de I-----, who is strikingly like him.  He never speaks of him, and I am convinced that he will never do anything for him.  Again and again I tell you, we do not live under Louis XIV.”  Madame de Mirepoix had been Ambassadress to London, and had often heard the English make this remark.

Some alterations had been made in Madame de Pompadour’s rooms, and I had no longer, as heretofore, the niche in which I had been permitted to sit, to hear Caffarelli, and, in later times, Mademoiselle Fel and Jeliotte.  I, therefore, went more frequently to my lodgings in town, where I usually received my friends:  more particularly when Madame visited her little hermitage, whither M. de Gontaut commonly accompanied her.  Madame du Chiron, the wife of the Head Clerk in the War-Office, came to see me.  “I feel,” said she, “greatly embarrassed, in speaking to you about an affair, which will, perhaps, embarrass you also.  This is the state of the case.  A very poor woman, to whom I have sometimes given a little assistance, pretends to be a relation of the Marquise de Pompadour.  Here is her petition.”  I read it, and said that the woman had better write directly to Madame, and that I was sure, if what she asserted was true, her application would be successful.  Madame du Chiron followed my advice.  The woman wrote she was in the lowest depth of poverty, and I learnt that Madame sent her six Louis until she could gain more accurate information as to the truth of her story.  Colin, who was commissioned to take the money, made inquiries of M. de Malvoiain, a relation of Madame, and a very respectable officer.  The fact was found to be as she had stated it.  Madame then sent her a hundred louis, and promised her a pension of sixty louis a year.  All this was done with great expedition, and Madame had a visit of thanks from her poor relation, as soon as she had procured decent clothes to come in.  That day the King happened to come in at an unusual hour, and saw this person going out.  He asked who it was.  “It is a very poor relation of mine,” replied Madame.  “She came, then, to beg for some assistance?”—­“No,” said she.  “What did she come for, then?”—­“To