“You ask me a very awkward question, my darling, I can tell you. I do love you, and very much, too: I have proved it by ranging myself on your side, and by declaring, with the utmost frankness, that I would rather see you in the situation in which you are, than any other woman of the court. But there is a long space between this and heroical friendship: I should deceive you if I were to affirm the contrary, and there would be no common sense in giving faith to my words. Every one has too much business, too much intrigue, too many quarrels on hand, to have any leisure to think of others: every one lives for himself alone. Mesdames de Guémenée and de Grammont appear very intimate: that is easily explained, they unite against a common enemy. But were your station left vacant, no sooner would the king have thrown the apple to one of them, but the other would detest her instantly.” Contrary to custom I made no reply: I was absorbed in painful reflections to which this conversation had given rise. The maréchale perceived it, and said, “We should fall into philosophy if we probed this subject too deeply. Let us think no more of this: besides, I have a new defection to tell you of. Madame de Flaracourt told me yesterday that she much regretted having misunderstood you, and that you were worth more than all those who persecute you. She appeared to me disposed to ally herself to you for the least encouragement which you might be induced to hold out to her.” “You know very well,” I replied, “that I am willing to adopt your advice. The house of Flaracourt is not to be despised, and I ask no better than to be on amicable terms with the lady.” “Well, then, come this morning and walk in the grove nearest the pavilion, I shall be there with madame de Flaracourt: we will meet by chance, compliments will follow, and the alliance will be formed.” The maréchale and I had scarcely separated when madame de Bearn was announced. This lady besieged me night and day. Gifted with a subtle and penetrating spirit--that talent which procures advancement at court, she saw, with pain, that I sought to attract other females about me: she would fain have remained my only friend, that she might, unopposed, influence me in all I did. She saw, therefore, the appearance of madame de Mirepoix in my drawing-room with uneasiness: her bad humor was sufficiently apparent to attract the notice of the maréchale, who laughed at it: her social position as a titled woman, and the king’s friendship, giving her confidence that her credit would always exceed that of my godmother.