condemn themselves to the most melancholy privations, and to the most severe sufferings.  Is not this insulting Faraki?  Is it not saying to him, I despise your gifts?  Is it not misrepresenting him and saying, You are malevolent and cruel, and I know that I can no otherwise please you than by offering you the spectacle of my miseries?  “I am told,” added he, “that you have, in your country, faquirs not less insane, not less cruel to themselves.”  I thought, with some reason, that he meant the fathers of La Trappe.  The recital of the matter afforded me much matter for reflection, and I admired how strange are the systems to which perverted reason gives birth.

The Duc de V----- was a nobleman of high rank and great wealth.   He said
to the King one evening at supper, “Your Majesty does me the favour to
treat me with great kindness:  I should be inconsolable if I had the
misfortune to fall under your displeasure.   If such a calamity were to
befall me, I should endeavour to divert my grief by improving some
beautiful estates of mine in 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