That very day Henriette, whom I had sent for, and instituted as
my head waiting-woman, informed me, that an old gentleman, attired
as tho' for a grand gala, but who refused to send in his name,
begged to be permitted to pay his respects. I bade her admit
him; it was the duc de Richelieu.

"Madame la comtesse," said he, bowing low, "I come to complain
of your want of condescension; unless, indeed, your memory has
been at fault. Was it possible that when I had the honor of
supping with you the other night, you did not recollect your
former old friend?"

"If, indeed, my forgetfulness were a fault, monsieur le marechal,
it was one in which you bore an equal share; you were not more
forward than myself in displaying marks of recognition."

"That arose only from the dazzling increase of your beauty.
You were but a nymph when last my eyes had beheld you, and now
you are matured into a goddess."

The duke then made some slight allusion to the family of madame
Lagarde, but guessing with his admirable tact, that such
reminiscences could not be particularly agreeable to me, he
dexterously turned the conversation, by requesting permission to
present to me his nephew, the duc d'Aiguillon, that he might leave
a worthy substitute and champion near the king when state affairs
called him into Gascony; he craved my kind offices to obtain the
intimate acquaintance of comte Jean. They were subsequently at
daggers drawn with each other, but this haughty overbearing lord