" These were
the last words I ever heard from his lips.
Upon re-entering my apartments I found madame de Mirepoix awaiting
me, to whom I related all that had taken place, expressing, at the
same time, my earnest hope of being again summoned, ere long, to
the presence of my friend and benefactor.
"Do not deceive yourself, my dear," said she; "depend upon it
you have had your last interview; you should have employed it
more profitably. His portrait! why, if I mistake not, you have
already. Why did you not carry about with you some deed
of settlement ready for signature? he would have denied you
nothing at such a moment, when you may rest assured he knew
himself to be taking his last farewell."
"Is it possible?" exclaimed I. "And can you really suppose the
king believed he spoke to me for the last time?"
"I have not the slightest doubt of it; I have known him for many
a day. He remembers the scene of Metz, and looks upon you as
forming the second edition of the poor duchesse de Chateauroux,
who, by the by, was not equal to you in any respect."
I burst into a fit of tears, but not of regret for having allowed
my late interview with the king to pass in so unprofitable a
manner. However, the marechale, misconceiving the cause of this
burst of grief, exclaimed, "Come, come; it is too late now, and
all your sorrow cannot recall the last half-hour.
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