which she lived, and that she had gone with her neck uncovered.
The poor man actually thought this the height of licentiousness.
The King, who had been at first uneasy, when he came to this,
called out, "_What a fool!_" After having long been a source of
anxiety to the Court, the Duke died. Nothing produces a stronger
impression upon Princes, than the spectacle of their equals dying.
Everybody is occupied about them while ill--but as soon as they
are dead, nobody mentions them. The King frequently talked about
death--and about funerals, and places of burial. Nobody could
be of a more melancholy temperament. Madame de Pompadour once
told me that he experienced a painful sensation whenever he was
forced to laugh, and that he had often begged her to break off
a droll story. He smiled, and that was all. In general, he had
the most gloomy ideas concerning almost all events. When there
was a new Minister, he used to say, "_He displays his wares like
all the rest, and promises the finest things in the world, not
one of which will be fulfilled. He does not know this country--he
will see._" When new projects for reinforcing the navy were laid
before him, he said, "This is the twentieth time I have heard
this talked of--France never will have a navy, I think." This
I heard from M. de Marigny.

I never saw Madame de Pompadour so rejoiced as at the taking
of Mahon. The King was very glad, too, but he had no belief in
the merit of his courtiers--he looked upon their success as the
effect of chance. Marechal Saxe was, as I have been told, the
only man who inspired him with great esteem. But he had scarcely
ever seen him in his closet, or playing the courtier.

M. d'Argenson picked a quarrel with M. de Richelieu, after his
victory, about his return to Paris. This was intended to prevent
his coming to enjoy his triumph. He tried to throw the thing
upon Madame de Pompadour, who was enthusiastic about him, and
called him by no other name than the "_Minorcan_." The Chevalier
de Montaign was the favourite of the Dauphin, and much beloved
by him for his great devotion. He fell ill, and underwent an
operation called _l'empieme_, which is performed by making an
incision between the ribs, in order to let out the pus; it had,
to all appearance, a favourable result, but the patient grew
worse, and could not breathe. His medical attendants could not
conceive what occasioned this accident and retarded his cure.
He died almost in the arms of t