ssed to the comptroller-general and M. de la Borde,
for money, met with no attention. The latter replied, with extreme
politeness, that the 100,000 francs received by comte Jean a few days
before the king was taken ill, and the 50,000 paid to madame de Mirepoix
recently, must be a convincing proof, in my eyes, of his friendly
intentions towards me, but that he had no money at present in his
possession, the first he received should be at my disposal.
The abbe Terray acted with less ceremony, for he came himself to say,
that, so long as the king remained ill, he would pay no money without
his majesty's signature, for which my brother-in-law might either ask or
wait till there no longer existed any occasion for such a precaution;
and that, for his own part, he could not conceive how he could have
consumed the enormous sums he had already drawn from the treasury.
This manner of speaking stung me to the quick.
"I find you," said I to him, "precisely the mean, contemptible wretch
you were described to me; but you are premature. I am not yet an exile
from court, and yet you seem already to have forgotten all you owe to
me."
"I have a very good memory, madam," replied he, "and if you wish it, I
can count upon my fingers the money you and your family have received of
me. You will see--"
"What shall I see?" interrupted I, "unless, indeed, it be an amount of
your regrets that such a sum was not left in your hands to be pillaged
by your mistresses and their spurious offspring. Really, to hear you
talk, any one would suppose you a Sully for integrity, and a Colbert in
financial talent."
This vigorous reply staggered the selfish and coarse-minded abbe, who
easily perceived that he had carried matters too far, and had reckoned
erroneously upon the feebleness and timidity of my natural disposition;
he attempted to pacify me, but his cowardly insolence had exasperated me
too highly to admit of any apology or peace-making.
"Have a care what you do," said I, "or rather employ yourself in packing
up whatever may belong to you, for you shall quit your post whatever may
befall. In the event of the king's death you will certainly be turned
out by his successor, and if he regain his health, he must then choose
between you and me, there can be no medium. Henceforward, you may
consider me only in the light of your mortal enemy."
He wished to insist upon my hearing him, but I exclaimed, "Quit the
room, I wish neither to see nor h
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