istened; he hid his face against the back of an
armchair, without saying a word; would neither go out nor play. He ate
but a few mouthfuls at supper, wept, and did not sleep all night. The
morning and the dinner of the next day, the 14th, passed off but little
better.

CHAPTER CXIV

That same 14th, as I rose from dinner at Meudon, with much company, the
valet de chambre who served me said that a courier from Cardinal Dubois
had a letter for me, which he had not thought good to bring me before all
my guests. I opened the letter. The Cardinal conjured me to go
instantly and see him at Versailles, bringing with me a trusty servant,
ready to be despatched to La Trappe, as soon as I had spoken with him,
and not to rack my brains to divine what this might mean, because it
would be impossible to divine it, and that he was waiting with the utmost
impatience to tell it to me. I at once ordered my coach, which I thought
a long time in coming from the stables. They are a considerable distance
from the new chateau I occupied.

This courier to be taken to the Cardinal, in order to be despatched to La
Trappe, turned my head. I could not imagine what had happened to occupy
the Cardinal so thoroughly so soon after the arrest of Villeroy. The
constitution, or some important and unknown fugitive discovered at La
Trappe, and a thousand other thoughts, agitated me until I arrived at
Versailles.

Upon reaching the chateau, I saw Dubois at a window awaiting me, and
making many signs to me, and upon reaching the staircase, I found him
there at the bottom, as I was about to mount. His first word was to ask
me if I had brought with me a man who could post to La Trappe. I showed
him my valet de chambre, who knew the road well, having travelled over it
with me very often, and who was well known to the Cardinal, who, when
simple Abbe Dubois, used very frequently to chat with him while waiting
for me.

The Cardinal explained to me, as we ascended the stairs, the cause of his
message. Immediately after the departure of the Marechal de Villeroy,
M. le Frejus, the King's instructor, had been missed. He had
disappeared. He had not slept at Versailles. No one knew what had
become of him! The grief of the King had so much increased upon
receiving this fresh blow--both his familiar friends taken from him at
once--that no one knew what to do with him. He was in the most violent
despair, wept bitterly, and could not be pacified. The Cardinal
co