upon this
excursion. It has likewise been asserted, that neither the duchesse
de Grammont nor the princesse de Beauvau was present during the king's
first visit to Chantilly: that is not correct; it was at the second that
they were forbidden by Louis to join the party. Those who fabricated
such accounts, in all probability derived their information from either
the stable or the kitchen, which was all they knew of the court of Louis
XV.

During my abode at Compiegne I dined several times at the house of
my brother-in-law, Cleon du Barry, then a captain in the regiment de
Beauce, who was, with a detachment, quartered in the neighborhood of the
castle; and he, with the rest of his brother officers, vied in endeavors
to please and amuse me. They gave fetes in my honor, were perpetually
devising fresh schemes to render the place agreeable to me; and in that
they perfectly succeeded, for I quitted Compiegne with no other regret than
that my stay there was at an end.

The king appeared each day more and more solicitous to render me happy,
and even anticipated any wishes I might form. Amongst other marks of his
favor, he bestowed upon me the splendid pavilion de Lucienne, sold
by the duc de Penthievre after the death of his son, the prince de
Lamballe. You know this charming spot, which both nature and art have
so liberally contributed to adorn: I have converted it into the most
perfect and delightful habitation in which a mortal could desire to
end her days. Nevertheless, this hope of passing my life tranquilly and
happily within its sheltering bosom will prove but fallacious, if I
may credit a prediction which has been verified already in part. You
doubtlessly remember the young man who so obstinately pursued me to
announce the high destiny to which I should attain, ere I had for one
moment contemplated such an elevation. Well! You will scarcely credit
me when I declare, that all recollection of him had entirely escaped me;
but, in truth, the constant vortex of a court life leaves no time for
the recollection of the past, and fills our minds with no other ideas
but to provide for the present, and occasionally to glance at the
future.

However, I thought no more of my young prophet, when one Sunday, after
my return to Versailles from Compiegne, I attended mass at the castle;
all at once I caught a glimpse of my mysterious acquaintance, leaning
his back against the wall behind the altar. He was examining my
countenance wit