'It is Madame la Duchesse de Choiseul,' replied some one. Forthwith, not a whit disconcerted, he commenced another harangue, in which he lauded to the skies the excellent education she had bestowed on her son. 'But I have no son, monsieur,' replied the duchess quietly. 'Ah! you have no son; I am very sorry for that;' and so saying his reverence put his harangue in his pocket, and walked off. "Adieu, my worthy friend. We shall reach Bordeaux on Thursday. I intend to feed well when I get there." What an edifying picture of the state of the high and low clergy of France at this epoch is presented to us! The Abbe de Voisenon rolling along in his carriage, indulging in the anticipatory delights of some good 'feeds' when he shall get to Bordeaux; and a hungry priest haranguing right and left the first comers who may present themselves, in order to obtain the wherewithal to procure a dinner. It is to Madame Favart that Voisenon writes from Bordeaux:-- "We arrived here at ten o'clock yesterday evening, and found Marshal de Richelieu, who had crossed the Garonne to meet the Duchesse de Choiseul. This city is beautiful viewed at a distance--all that appertains to the exterior is of the best; but what afflicts me most of all, is the sad fact that there are no sardines to be had on account of the war. I was not aware that the sardines had taken part against; however, I revenged myself upon two ortolans, which I devoured for supper, along with a _pate_ of red partridges _aux truffes_, which, though made as long back as November last--as Marshal de Richelieu assured me--was as fresh and as _parfume_ as if it had been made but the night before." If the reader should feel astonished that an asthmatical patient could eat partridges and truffles without being horribly ill, his astonishment will not be of long continuance. The following day Voisenon wrote to Favart:-- "Oh, my dear friend, I have passed a frightful night. I was obliged to smoke and take my _kermes_. I shall not be able to see any of the 'lions' of the place. If I am three days following in this state after I get to Cauterets, you will have me back again with you by the end of the month." One would suppose that after this gentle hint our abbe would be more prudent; not a bit of it. In the same letter he adds:-- "The dinner-table yesterday was covered with sardines. At the very first start I eat six in as many mouthfuls--a truly delicious _morceau_; despite my _kermes_, I reckon upon eating as many to-day, along with my two ortolans. We leave to-morrow, and on Wednesday we shall reach Cauterets." Thus, ill on the 11th in consequence of a monstrous supper taken on the 10th, we find him, for all that, on the following day devouring sardines by the half-dozen, and ortolans again! On the 18th he writes from Cauterets to his friend Favart:--