In July, 1745, she proudly displays eighty amorous epistles from the gallant sovereign; the motto on the seal is: _Discreet and faithful_; one of them is addressed: _À la Marquise de Pompadour_, and contains the brevet conferring this title. The new marquise instantly discards the name of Étioles, leaves off her husband’s arms, substitutes three towers in their place, and puts her servants in grand livery. This marquisate enchants Voltaire; he has become the official poet, courtier, and familiar of the favorite, and his complaisant muse thus celebrates the official accession of the new royal mistress:-- “Il sait aimer, il sait combattre; Il envoie en ce beau séjour Un brevet digne d’Henri quatre, Signé: Louis, Mars et l’Amour. Mais les ennemis out leur tour, Et sa valeur et sa prudence Donnent à Gand, le même jour, Un brevet de ville de France. Ces deux brevets, si bien venus, Vivront tous deux dans la mémoire. Chez lui, les autels de Vénus Sont dans le temple de la Gloire.”[28] The democrats, perhaps, are in a trifle too much of a hurry to erect a statue to Voltaire. III THE NEW MARQUISE Louis XV. had had enough of glory. Impatient to meet again the new marquise, he left the army September 1, 1745, and returned to Versailles, where his mistress awaited him in the apartment once occupied by the Duchess de Châteauroux. This change of reign was effected in an official manner. There was no more attempt at mystery. The Marquise de Pompadour was _presented_ September 15, conformably to the rules of etiquette. Every tongue at court was wagging over this scandalous and ridiculous ceremony. Every one wondered how the Queen would look. The King, his wife, and his mistress thus exposed themselves to public view, and the ancient ceremonial became merely a parody. The Princess de Conti, whose debts and prodigalities seemed to condemn her to such complaisant rôles, was the lady who presented her. The Marquise appeared at first before the King, whose countenance betrayed an easily comprehended embarrassment. Then she entered the salon of the Queen and could not hide her confusion. But Marie Leczinska, good and indulgent even to exaggeration, reassured her by a gracious reception. Naming one of the few aristocratic women with whom Madame de Pompadour was connected, she said: “Have you any news of Madame de Saissac? I have been much pleased to see her sometimes in Paris.” The Marquise, touched and grateful, know not what to answer. She reddened and stammered out: “Madame, I have the greatest passion to please you.” The Abbé de Bernis celebrated thus the new queen of Cythera:--