Sire,” said M. de Gontaut, “it is too strong to be shaken by a set of petty justices.”  “You don’t know what they do, nor what they think.  They are an assembly of republicans; however, here is enough of the subject.  Things will last as they are as long as I shall.  Talk about this on Sunday, Madame, with M. Berrien.”  Madame d’Amblimont and Madame d’Esparbes came in.  “Ah! here come my kittens,” said Madame de Pompadour; “all that we are about is Greek to them; but their gaiety restores my tranquility, and enables me to attend again to serious affairs.  You, Sire, have the chase to divert you—­they answer the same purpose to me.”  The King then began to talk about his morning’s sport, and Lansmatte.

[See the “Memoirs of Madame Campan,” vol. iii., p. 24.  Many traits of original and amusing bluntness are related of Lansmatte, one of the King’s grooms.]

It was necessary to let the King go on upon these subjects, and even, sometimes, to hear the same story three or four times over, if new persons came into the room.  Madame de Pompadour never betrayed the least ennui.  She even sometimes persuaded him to begin his story anew.

I one day said to her, “It appears to me, Madame, that you are fonder than ever of the Comtesse d’Amblimont.”—­“I have reason to be so,” said she.  “She is unique, I think, for her fidelity to her friends, and for her honour.  Listen, but tell nobody—­four days ago, the King, passing her to go to supper, approached her, under the pretence of tickling her, and tried to slip a note into her hand.  D’Amblimont, in her madcap way, put her hands behind her back, and the King was obliged to pick up the note, which had fallen on the ground.  Gontaut was the only person who saw all this, and, after supper, he went up to the little lady, and said, ‘You are an excellent friend.’—­’I did my duty,’ said she, and immediately put her finger on her lips to enjoin him to be silent.  He, however, informed me of this act of friendship of the little heroine, who had not told me of it herself.”  I admired the Countess’s virtue, and Madame de Pompadour said, “She is giddy and headlong; but she has more sense and more feeling than a thousand prudes and devotees.  D’Esparbes would not do as much most likely she would meet him more than half-way.  The King appeared disconcerted, but he still pays her great attentions.”—­“You will, doubtless, Madame,” said I, “show your sense of such admirable conduct.”—­“You need not doubt it,” said she, “but I don’t wish her to think that I am informed of it.”  The King, prompted either by the remains of his liking, or from the suggestions of Madame de Pompadour, one morning went to call on Madame d’Amblimont, at Choisy, and threw round her neck a collar of diamonds and emeralds, worth between fifty thousand and seventy-five thousand francs.  This happened a long time after the circumstance I have just related.

There was a large sofa in a little room adjoining Madame de Pompadour’s, upon which I often reposed.