llantry, gentlemen," replied madame de Mirepoix,
"at my age I can only believe myself capable of reflecting the last rays
of the setting sun."

"Hush!" interrupted madame de Forcalquier, "you forget we are at
Versailles, where age is never thought of, but where, like our gracious
sovereign, all are young."

"Come, ladies," said madame de Flaracourt, "let us retire; I for one,
plead guilty of being in need of repose."

"No, no!" replied the duc de Richelieu, "let us employ the remaining
hours in pleasing and social converse," and with a tremulous voice he
began that charming trio in "Selina and Azor," "_Veillons mes soeurs_."
We joined chorus with him, and the echoes of the palace of Louis XV
resounded with the mirthful strain. This burst of noisy mirth did not
last long, and we relapsed into increased taciturnity, spite of our
endeavours to keep up a general conversation. We were all fatigued,
though none but madame de Flaracourt would confess the fact. Tired
nature called loudly for repose, and we were each compelled to seek it
in the different apartments assigned us. The duc d'Aiguillon alone was
compelled, by the duties of his office, to return to Versailles.

Upon entering my chamber I found my brother-in-law there, in the most
violent fit of ill humour, that the king (who was in fact ignorant of
his being at Trianon) had not invited him to supper. As I have before
told you, comte Jean was no favourite with his majesty, and as I had
displayed no wish for his company, Louis XV had gladly profited by my
indifference to omit him upon the present occasion. I endeavoured to
justify the king, without succeeding, however, in appeasing comte Jean,
who very unceremoniously consigned us all to the care and company of a
certain old gentleman, whose territory is supposed to lie beneath "the
round globe which we inhabit."

"I have to thank you," replied I, "for a very flattering mode of
saying 'good night.'"

"Perhaps," answered comte Jean roughly, "you would prefer--"

"Nothing from your lips if you please, my polite brother," cried I,
interrupting him, "nothing you will say in your present humour can be at
all to my taste."

Chon interfered between us, and effected a reconciliation, which I was
the more willing to listen to, that I might enjoy that sleep my weary
eye-lids craved for. Scarcely was my head on my pillow, than I fell into
a profound sleep: could I but have anticipated to what I should awake!
It was elev