I was now firmly fixed at court, the king, more than ever devoted to me, seemed unable to dispense with my constant presence. I had so successfully studied his habits and peculiarities, that my empire over him was established on a basis too firm to be shaken, whilst my power and unbounded influence convinced my enemies, that, so long as the present monarch sat upon the throne of France, their attempts at diminishing my credit and influence would only recoil upon themselves. Louis XV generally supped in my apartments every evening, unless indeed, by way of change, I went to sup with him. Our guests were of course of the first order, but yet not of the most exemplary morals. These persons had tact, and saw that, to please the king, they must not surpass him; so that, if by chance he should reflect on himself, he would appear to advantage amongst them. Poor courtiers! It was labour in vain. The king was in too much fear of knowing himself to understand that study: he knew the penetration and severity of his own judgment, and on no account would he exercise it at his own expense. The duc de Duras, although a man of little wit, was yet gay and always lively. He amused me; I liked his buoyant disposition, and forgave him although he had ranged himself with the protesting peers. In fact, I could not be angry with him. The folly of opposition had only seized on him because it was epidemic. The dear duke had found himself with wolves, and had begun to howl with them. I am sure that he was astonished at himself when he remembered the signature which he had given, and the love he had testified for the old parliament, for which, in fact, he cared no more than Jean de Vert. God knows how he compensated for this little folly at the château. It was by redoubling his assiduities to the king, and by incessant attentions to me. In general, those who wished to thrive at court only sought how to make their courage remembered; M. de Duras was only employed in making his forgotten. The prince de Terigny, the comte d’Escars, the duc de Fleury, were not the least amusing. They kept up a lively strain of conversation, and the king laughed outrageously. But the vilest of the party was the duc de Fronsac. Ye gods! what a wretch! To speak ill of him is no sin. A mangled likeness of his father, he had all his faults with not one of his merits. He was perpetually changing his mistresses, but it cannot be said whether it was inconstancy on his part, or disgust on theirs, but the latter appears to me most probable. Though young, he was devoured by gout or some other infirmity, but it was called gout out of deference to the house of Richelieu. They talked of the duchess de ------, whose husband was said to have poisoned her.