My communication tormented comte Jean as much as it did me; he proposed several means of combating this rising inclination on the part of Louis XV. I assented to whatever he suggested, and we set to work with an eagerness, increased on my part by a species of gloomy presentiment, which subsequent events but too fatally confirmed. The maréchale de Mirepoix, who, from being on good terms with every person, was sure to be aware of all that was going on, spoke to me also of this rival who was springing up in obscurity and retirement; and it was from the same source I learned what I have told you of the two ladies of the court. She advised me not to abandon myself to a blind confidence, and this opinion was strengthened when I related all I had gathered upon the subject. “You may justly apprehend,” said she, “that Julie will instil some of her bold and fearless nature into the king, and should she presume to put herself in competition with you, victory would in all probability incline to the side of the last comer”; and I felt but too truly that the maréchale spoke with truth. A few days after this, the king being alone with me, comte Jean entered. After the usual salutations, he exclaimed, “I have just seen a most lovely creature.” “Who is she?” inquired his majesty, hastily. “No high-born dame,” answered comte Jean, “but the daughter of a cabinet-maker at Versailles; I think I never beheld such matchless beauty.” “Always excepting present company,” replied the king. “Assuredly,” rejoined my brother-in-law, “but, sire, the beauteous object of whom I speak is a nymph in grace, a sylph in airy lightness, and an angel in feature.” “Comte Jean seems deeply smitten indeed, madam,” exclaimed Louis XV, turning towards me. “Not I indeed,” replied my brother-in-law, “my lovemaking days are over.” “Oh! oh!” cried the king, smiling, “_fructus belli_.” “What does your majesty say?” inquired I. “Nay, let the comte explain,” cried Louis XV. “The king observed, my dear sister,” answered comte Jean, “that ladies--but, in fact, I can neither explain the observation, nor was it intended for you--so let it rest.” He continued for some time to jest with comte Jean upon his supposed passion for the fair daughter of the cabinet-maker; and the king, whilst affecting the utmost indifference, took every pains to obtain the fullest particulars as to where this peerless beauty might be found. When my brother-in-law and myself were alone, he said to me, “I played my part famously, did I not? How eagerly the bait was swallowed!” “Explain yourself,” said I. “My good sister, what I have said respecting this perfection of loveliness is no fiction, neither have I at all exaggerated either her perfections or her beauty, and I trust by her aid we shall obliterate from the king’s mind every recollection of the syren of the _Parc-aux-Cerfs_.” “Heaven grant it,” exclaimed I. “My dear sister,” replied comte Jean, “heaven has nothing to do with such things.”