aid that those who selfishly cut themselves
away from these ties, those that lead narrow, lonely, morbid lives,
lose most of life's joys. What should we say to the favourite of
a King from whom he had received a beautiful house, and fine
estates, and who chose to spoil the house, to let it fall in
ruins, to abandon the cultivation of the land, and let it become
sterile, and covered with thorns? Such is the conduct of the
faquirs of India, who condemn themselves to the most melancholy
privations, and to the most severe sufferings. Is not this insulting
Faraki? Is it not saying to him, I despise your gifts? Is it not
misrepresenting him and saying, You are malevolent and cruel,
and I know that I can no otherwise please you than by offering
you the spectacle of my miseries? "I am told," added he, "that
you have, in your country, faquirs not less insane, not less
cruel to themselves." I thought, with some reason, that he meant
the fathers of La Trappe. The recital of the matter afforded me
much matter for reflection, and I admired how strange are the
systems to which perverted reason gives birth.

The Duc de V---- was a nobleman of high rank and great wealth.
He said to the King one evening at supper, "Your Majesty does
me the favour to treat me with great kindness: I should be
inconsolable if I had the misfortune to fall under your displeasure.
If such a calamity were to befall me, I should endeavour to divert
my grief by improving some beautiful estates of mine in such
and such a province;" and he thereupon gave a description of
three or four fine seats. About a month after, talking of the
disgrace of a Minister, he said, "I hope your Majesty will not
withdraw your favour from me; but if I had the misfortune to
lose it, I should be more to be pitied than anybody, for I have
no asylum in which to hide my head." All those present, who had
heard the description of the beautiful country houses, looked at
each other and laughed. The King said to Madame de Pompadour,
who sat next to him at table, "_People are very right in saying
that a liar ought to have a good memory._"

An event, which made me tremble, as well as Madame, procured me
the familiarity of the King. In the middle of the night, Madame
came into my chamber, _en chemise_, and in a state of distraction.
"Here! Here!" said she, "the King is dying." My alarm may be
easily imagined. I put on a petticoat, and found the King in her
bed, panting. What was to be done?