The Queen gave the Grand Duke a supper at Trianon, and had the gardens illuminated as they had been for the Emperor.  The Cardinal de Rohan very indiscreetly ventured to introduce himself there without the Queen’s knowledge.  Having been treated with the utmost coolness ever since his return from Vienna, he had not dared to ask her himself for permission to see the illumination; but he persuaded the porter of Trianon to admit him as soon as the Queen should have set off for Versailles, and his Eminence engaged to remain in the porter’s lodge until all the carriages should have left the chateau.  He did not keep his word, and while the porter was busy in the discharge of his duty, the Cardinal, who wore his red stockings and had merely thrown on a greatcoat, went down into the garden, and, with an air of mystery, drew up in two different places to see the royal family and suite pass by.

Her Majesty was highly offended at this piece of boldness, and next day ordered the porter to be discharged.  There was a general feeling of disgust at the Cardinal’s conduct, and of commiseration towards the porter for the loss of his place.  Affected at the misfortune of the father of a family, I obtained his forgiveness; and since that time I have often regretted the feeling which induced me to interfere.  The notoriety of the discharge of the porter of Trianon, and the odium that circumstance would have fixed upon the Cardinal, would have made the Queen’s dislike to him still more publicly known, and would probably have prevented the scandalous and notorious intrigue of the necklace.

The Queen, who was much prejudiced against the King of Sweden, received him very coldly.

[Gustavus iii., King of Sweden, travelled in France under the title of Comte d’Haga.  Upon his accession to the throne, he managed the revolution which prostrated the authority of the Senate with equal skill, coolness, and courage.  He was assassinated in 1792, at a masked ball, by Auckarstrum.—­Note by the editor.]

All that was said of the private character of that sovereign, his connection with the Comte de Vergennes, from the time of the Revolution of Sweden, in 1772, the character of his favourite Armfeldt, and the prejudices of the monarch himself against the Swedes who were well received at the Court of Versailles, formed the grounds of this dislike.  He came one day uninvited and unexpected, and requested to dine with the Queen.  The Queen received him in the little closet, and desired me to send for her clerk of the kitchen, that she might be informed whether there was a proper dinner to set before Comte d’Haga, and add to it if necessary.  The King of Sweden assured her that there would be enough for him; and I could not help smiling when I thought of the length of the menu of the dinner of the King and Queen, not half of which would have made its appearance had they dined in private.  The Queen looked significantly at me, and I withdrew.