The daughters of Louis XV had united against me with a fury which nothing could justify. They were incessantly talking scandal of my past life, as if there were only saints at court, as if they had no pranks of their own to reproach themselves with. All the château knew of their lovers, and there was _living_ evidence of the tenderness of madame Adélaïde: as for madame Louise she was an angel upon earth, and was the only one who did not join in the cry against me. On the other hand, the king, whilst he had but little love for his dear daughters, preserved towards them a complaisance and external appearance of kindness which was a substitute for parental love. When _mesdames royales_ cried out, he stopped his ears with his two hands, and seemed, whilst looking proudly at France, to say, “Am not I a good father, and are not my daughters very happy, for I let them cry out with all their might?” The next day the duc d’Aiguillon went again to the king, and found him bewildered with family scenes and the murmurings of the Choiseuls. When my ambassador had delivered his message, the king asked him if he, as well as the prince de Soubise, had been set upon his haunches by me. The duke, nothing intimidated at this, told the king that far from having wished that he should be my interpreter, I had requested him not to allude to the matter. “Why, then,” said Louis XV laughing, “do you not follow the advice of the comtesse?” “Because I entertain a sincere attachment for her, and that I am vexed to hear it said that there are persons who lead your majesty.” “Who are the insolents that hold such language?” “They surround you, sire. There is not a female here but affirms that you dare not decide on the presentation of the comtesse.” “I alone am master, and will let them know it when the opportunity arrives; but the present moment is not fitting. The comtesse knows how well I love her; and if she will prove her friendship towards me, she will remain quiet for some time.” The duke thought it best to be silent, and came to me. After relating the conversation, he added, “Do not appear at all dejected; the king would not then visit you lest he should find you out of temper. Were I you I should write to him; a word of peace would set him at ease.” I approved this advice, and instantly penned the following letter:-- “Sire--They tell me that your majesty has been tormented on my account. It is a treason of which I alone could believe myself capable. But why should I complain? You have done so much for me that I ought to esteem myself happy: your august friendship consoles me thro’ all my annoyances. Be assured that henceforth I shall pout no more; I will be the best sheep in the world, relying on my shepherd for not having my fleece cut too closely; for after all I think I am the petted ewe, etc.” A short time afterwards a page brought me a splendid box of _bonbons_ with a pair of ruby ear-rings surrounded with diamonds, and this short billet:--