y inclination. I told her that I met him accidentally at
the Doctor's, where he generally spent an hour when he came to
Versailles. "The King knows him to be a worthy man," said she.

Madame de Pompadour was ill, and the King came to see her several
times a day. I generally left the room when he entered, but,
having stayed a few minutes, on one occasion, to give her a glass
of chicory water, I heard the King mention Madame d'Egmont. Madame
raised her eyes to heaven, and said, "That name always recalls
to me a most melancholy and barbarous affair; but it was not my
fault." These words dwelt in my mind, and, particularly, the
tone in which they were uttered. As I stayed with Madame till
three o'clock in the morning, reading to her a part of the time,
it was easy for me to try to satisfy my curiosity. I seized a
moment, when the reading was interrupted, to say, "You looked
dreadfully shocked, Madame, when the King pronounced the name
of D'Egmont." At these words, she again raised her eyes, and
said, "You would feel as I do, if you knew the affair." "It must,
then, be deeply affecting, for I do not think that it personally
concerns you, Madame." "No," said she, "it does not; as, however,
I am not the only person acquainted with this history, and as
I know you to be discreet, I will tell it you. The last Comte
d'Egmont married a reputed daughter of the Duc de Villars; but
the Duchess had never lived with her husband, and the Comtesse
d'Egmont is, in fact, a daughter of the Chevalier d'Orleans.
At the death of her husband, young, beautiful, agreeable, and
heiress to an immense fortune, she attracted the suit and homage
of all the most distinguished men at Court. Her mother's director,
one day, came into her room and requested a private interview; he
then revealed to her that she was the offspring of an adulterous
intercourse, for which her mother had been doing penance for
five-and-twenty years. 'She could not,' said he, 'oppose your
former marriage, although it caused her extreme distress. Heaven
did not grant you children; but, if you marry again, you run
the risk, Madame, of transmitting to another family the immense
wealth, which does not, in fact, belong to you, and which is
the price of crime.'

"The Comtesse d'Egmont heard this recital with horror. At the
same instant, her mother entered, and, on her knees, besought
her daughter to avert her eternal damnation. Madame d'Egmont
tried to calm her own and her mother's