e how she can be allowed
to pay her respects to his majesty."

"Do not let that disturb you; it is not intended that she shall go
and partake of the magnificence of Versailles, but be admitted to
an intimacy much more flattering. Would you refuse to grant him that
pleasure?"

"It would be a crime of _lese-majeste _," said the comte Jean, laughing,
"and my family have too much respect for their monarch. We should not be
content with a fugitive favor."

"You may expect everything from the charms of the comtesse; I am
certain they will have the utmost success; but for me, I can give you no
guarantee. You must run the chance."

"Your protection, however, is the only thing which encourages my
sister-in-law in this affair. But tell me when is this meeting to take
place?"

"Instantly. The king is impatient to see the comtesse and I have
promised that she will sup with him to-morrow evening in my apartment at
Versailles."

"How is she to be introduced to the king?"

"I am to entertain four of my friends."

"Who are they?"

"'First, the baron de Gonesse."

"Who is he?"

"The king himself."

"Well, who next?"

"The duc de Richelieu."

"Who else?"

"The marquis de Chauvelin."

"Well?"

"The duc de la Vauguyon."

"What, the devotee?"

"The hypocrite. But never mind: the main point is, that you must not
appear to recognize the king. Instruct your sister-in-law to this
effect."

"Certainly; if she must sin, she had better do so with some reason."

While these gentlemen were thus disposing of me, what was I doing?
Alone, in my room, I waited the result of their conference with mortal
impatience. The character I had to play was a superb one, and at the
moment was about to enter on the stage, I felt all the difficulties
of my part. I feared I should not succeed, but fail amid the insulting
hisses of the Versailles party.

My fears at once disappeared, and then I pictured myself sitting on
a throne, magnificently attired; my imagination wandered in all the
enchantments of greatness;--then, as if from remorse, I recalled my past
life. The former lover of Nicholas blushed before the future mistress of
Louis XV. A thousand different reflections crowded upon me, and mingled
in my brain. If to live is to think, I lived a whole age in one quarter
of an hour. At length I heard some doors open, a carriage rolled away,
and comte Jean entered my chamber.

"Victory!" cried he, embracing me with transport. "Victory