in what manner to meet a person so well informed of his condition.  The girl in question, having perceived that the King came secretly to see her companion, while she was neglected, watched his arrival, and, at the moment he entered with the Abbess, who was about to withdraw, she rushed distractedly into the room where her rival was.  She immediately threw herself at the King’s feet.  “Yes,” said she, “you are King of all France; but that would be nothing to me if you were not also monarch of my heart:  do not forsake me, my beloved sovereign; I was nearly mad when your life was attempted!” The Mother-Abbess cried out, “You are mad now.”  The King embraced her, which appeared to restore her to tranquility.  They succeeded in getting her out of the room, and a few days afterwards the unhappy girl was taken to a madhouse, where she was treated as if she had been insane, for some days.  But she knew well enough that she was not so, and that the King had really been her lover.  This lamentable affair was related to me by the Mother-Abbess, when I had some acquaintance with her at the time of the accouchement I have spoken of, which I never had before, nor since.

To return to my history:  Madame de Pompadour said to me, “Be constantly with the ‘accouchee’, to prevent any stranger, or even the people of the house, from speaking to her.  You will always say that he is a very rich Polish nobleman, who is obliged to conceal himself on account of his relationship to the Queen, who is very devout.  You will find a wet-nurse in the house, to whom you will deliver the child.  Guimard will manage all the rest.  You will go to church as a witness; everything must be conducted as if for a substantial citizen.  The young lady expects to lie in in five or six days; you will dine with her, and will not leave her till she is in a state of health to return to the Parc-aux-cerfs, which she may do in a fortnight, as I imagine, without running any risk.”  I went, that same evening, to the Avenue de Saint Cloud, where I found the Abbess and Guimard, an attendant belonging to the castle, but without his blue coat.  There were, besides, a nurse, a wet-nurse, two old men-servants, and a girl, who was something between a servant and a waiting-woman.  The young lady was extremely pretty, and dressed very elegantly, though not too remarkably.  I supped with her and the Mother-Abbess, who was called Madame Bertrand.  I had presented the aigrette Madame de Pompadour gave me before supper, which had greatly delighted the young lady, and she was in high spirits.

Madame Bertrand had been housekeeper to M. Lebel, first valet de chambre to the King.  He called her Dominique, and she was entirely in his confidence.  The young lady chatted with us after supper; she appeared to be very naive.  The next day, I talked to her in private.  She said to me, “How is the Count?” (It was the King whom she called by this title.) “He will be very sorry not to