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 be with me now; but he was obliged to set
off on a long journey." I assented to what she said. "He is very
handsome," said she, "and loves me with all his heart. He promised me an
allowance; but I love him disinterestedly; and, if he would let me, I
would follow him to Poland." She afterwards talked to me about her
parents, and about M. Lebel, whom she knew by the name of Durand. "My
mother," said she, "kept a large grocer's shop, and my father was a man
of some consequence; he belonged to the Six Corps, and that, as everybody
knows, is an excellent thing. He was twice very near being
head-bailiff." Her mother had become bankrupt at her father's death, but
the Count had come to her assistance, and settled upon her fifteen
hundred francs a year, besides giving her six thousand francs down. On
the sixth day, she was brought to bed, and, according to my instructions,
she was told the child was a girl, though in reality it was a boy; she
was soon to be told that it was dead, in order that no trace of its
existence might remain for a certain time. It was eventually to be
restored to its mother. The King gave each of his children about ten
thousand francs a year. They inherited after each other as they died
off, and seven or eight were already dead. I returned to Madame de
Pompadour, to whom I had written every day by Guimard. The next day, the