attributed to him. Perhaps like many other persons in the
world, he has said many pleasantries of me which have been reported as
said in my presence, but I repeat that he never uttered in my society a
single word with which I had cause to be offended.

At this juncture I received a letter of which I had the folly to be
proud, altho' a little reflection should have made me think that my
situation alone inspired it: it was from M. de Voltaire. This great
genius was born a courtier. Whether he loved the protection of the
great, or whether he thought it necessary to him, he was constantly
aiming, from his youth upwards, at obtaining the countenance of persons
belonging to a high rank, which made him servile and adulatory whilst
they were in power, and full of grimace towards them when the wind
favor ceased to swell their sails. It was in this way that mesdames
de Chateauroux and de Pompadour had had his homage. He had sung their
praises, and, of course, he could not forget me. You will recall to mind
the letter which he wrote to the duc d'Aiguillon, on occasion of the
piece of poetry entitled "_La Cour du Roi Petaud_." He had denied having
composed it, but this denial had not been addressed directly to me.
Having learnt, no doubt, that my credit was increasing, he thought
himself obliged to write to me, that he might rank me with his party. He
might have availed himself of the intermediation of the duc d'Aiguillon,
but preferred putting the duc de Richelieu into his confidence, and
begged him to fulfil the delicate function of literary Mercury. I was
alone when the marechal came to me with an assumed air of mystery. His
first care was to look around him without saying a word; and it was not
until after he had shaken the curtains, and peeped into every corner of
the apartment, that he approached me, who was somewhat surprised at his
monkey tricks.

"I am the bearer," he said, in a low voice, "of a secret and important
communication, which I have been entreated to deliver after five or six
hundred cautions at least: it is a defection from the enemy's camp, and
not the least in value."

Fully occupied by my quarrel with the ladies of the court, I imagined
that he had brought me a message of peace from some great lady; and,
full of this idea, I asked him in haste the name of her whose friendship
I had acquired.

"Good," said he, "it is about a lady, is it? It is from a personage
fully as important, a giant in power, whose