In the meantime the Duc de Choiseul went so far as to talk of resigning, if the presentation took place. Arrogant as he was, this bravery was not solely of his own growth, but inspired by the women of his connection. Of all human kind, there were not two beings so insolent as his own sister, the Duchesse de Grammont, and her friend, the Princesse de Beauvau.[12] These amazons took it into their heads to brave the King and his mistress; and, though the creatures of favour, were so transported by this imaginary heroism, that they urged the Duke to resign in defiance. This impertinence in Madame de Grammont was absurd beyond measure. Subsisting but by her brother’s power, abhorred for her haughtiness, suspected of many gallantries, and notorious for one that ought to have been the most secret, what could she expect from his fall but universal neglect? The Princess, no Penelope, was hurried on by equal impetuosity, and by rancour, to another person, whom I shall mention presently: yet, divested of their passions, both these viragos had uncommonly good understandings. There was a third person, who it was more surprising took the same line, though regulated by the same decency that governed all her actions. This was the Duchesse de Choiseul, a woman in whom industrious malice could not find an imperfection, unless that charming one of _studying_ to be a complete character. She was too virtuous to fear reproach or contagion from civilities to the mistress, and should have left it to the Duchess and Princess to be disdainful prudes.[13] Yet in a quiet style she was not less earnest than they in soliciting her husband not to bend to the ignominy of the hour. The King, who, by a singular situation, opened all letters, having the chief postmaster his own creature, and not the Minister’s, read the Duchesse’s importunities with her husband; and as he had expected more duty from her, resented her behaviour more than that of the two other dames. After an anxious suspense of three months, and when the public began to think the presentation warded off, it suddenly took place. The King returning from hunting, found (no doubt by concert) Maréchal Richelieu, who was in waiting in the outward room with a letter in his hand. The King asked what it was? “Sire,” said the Duke, “it is from Madame du Barry, who desires the honour of being presented to your Majesty.” “With all my heart,” replied the King; “she may come to morrow, if she pleases.” This was said aloud. The Duc de Choiseul and Versailles learnt the news at the same moment. Next day all Paris was there to see the ceremony.