others.  Several ladies, in the greatest distress, came to talk to me in my room:  they compared the conduct of M. de Machault with that of M. de Richelieu, at Metz.  Madame had related to them the circumstances extremely to the honour of the Duke, and, by contrast, the severest satire on the Keeper of the Seals.  “He thinks, or pretends to think,” said she, “that the priests will be clamorous for my dismissal; but Quesnay and all the physicians declare that there is not the slightest danger.”  Madame having sent for me, I saw the Marechale de Mirepoix coming in.  While she was at the door, she cried out, “What are all those trunks, Madame?  Your people tell me you are going.”—­“Alas! my dear friend, such is our Master’s desire, as M. de Machault tells me.”—­“And what does he advise?” said the Marechale.  “That I should go without delay.”  During this conversation, I was undressing Madame, who wished to be at her ease on her chaise-longue.  “Your Beeper of the Seals wants to get the power into his own hands, and betrays you; he who quits the field loses it.”  I went out.  M. de Soubise entered, then the Abbe and M. de Marigny.  The latter, who was very kind to me, came into my room an hour afterwards.  I was alone.  “She will remain,” said he; “but, hush!—­she will make an appearance of going, in order not to set her enemies at work.  It is the little Marechale who prevailed upon her to stay:  her keeper (so she called M. de Machault) will pay for it.”  Quesnay came in, and, having heard what was said, with his monkey airs, began to relate a fable of a fox, who, being at dinner with other beasts, persuaded one of them that his enemies were seeking him, in order that he might get possession of his share in his absence.  I did not see Madame again till very late, at her going to bed.  She was more calm.  Things improved, from day to day, and de Machault, the faithless friend, was dismissed.  The King returned to Madame de Pompadour, as usual.  I learnt, by M. de Marigny, that the Abbe had been, one day, with M. d’Argenson, to endeavour to persuade him to live on friendly terms with Madame, and that he had been very coldly received.  “He is the more arrogant,” said he, “on account of Machault’s dismissal, which leaves the field clear for him, who has more experience, and more talent; and I fear that he will, therefore, be disposed to declare war till death.”  The next day, Madame having ordered her chaise, I was curious to know where she was going, for she went out but little, except to church, and to the houses of the Ministers.  I was told that she was gone to visit M. d’Argenson.  She returned in an hour, at farthest, and seemed very much out of spirits.  She leaned on the chimneypiece, with her eyes fixed on the border of it.  M. de Bernis entered.  I waited for her to take off her cloak and gloves.  She had her hands in her muff.  The Abbe stood looking at her for some minutes; at last he said, “You look like a sheep in a reflecting mood.”