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Updated: May 24, 2025
The assembled company were in convulsions of suppressed laughter, which broke out when, at the moment of M. Barthe's most ecstatic admiration and respect for his new patron, Sophie Arnould lifted her glass, and, looking at the chevalier, said, in a clear voice, "Your health, Jeannot!" The sensations of poor M. Barthe may readily be imagined.
She was as celebrated for her practical jokes as for her witticisms, of which the following freak is a good example: One evening in 1780 she gave a grand supper, to which, among others, she invited M. Barthe, author of "Les Fausses Infidélités," and many similar pieces.
'I am M. de Berault, I said, brusquely, answering for myself. 'Of Paris? 'Yes, Monsieur, of Paris. 'You are not, then, the gentleman who has been honouring my poor house with his presence? 'Oh, yes! the Lieutenant struck in, grinning. 'He is that gentleman, too. 'But I thought I understood that that was M. de Barthe! 'I am M. de Barthe, also, I retorted impatiently.
'Because he is here, Mademoiselle. 'Here? she exclaimed. 'At Cocheforet? 'Yes, Mademoiselle, I answered soberly. 'I am he. 'You! she cried, in a voice which pierced my heart. 'You are M. de Berault? It is impossible! But, glancing askance at her I could not face her I saw that the blood had left her cheeks. 'Yes, Mademoiselle, I answered in a low tone. 'De Barthe was my mother's name.
M. Barthe was enchanted. He was in a flutter of gratified vanity, and, to show his delight at the condescension of the chevalier, he proposed to write an epic poem in honor of his house. This farce lasted during the evening.
Colonel De Barthe showed me the rules for the government of these institutes, which may be found in paragraph 658 of the Army Regulations for India, and begin with the words: "In order to promote the comfort and provide for the rational amusement of noncommissioned officers and men, to supply them with good articles at reasonable prices and to organize and maintain the means for indoor recreation, a regimental institute shall be provided," etc.
Louis shall call you when we go to dinner, M. de Barthe. Come, Elise. I bowed low to hide my face, and they nodded pleasantly not looking closely at me as they walked by me to the house.
Casimir Perrier bowed his head over the paper that lay before him, in order to conceal his mirth, and minister Barthe availed himself of the opportunity to give a proof of his eloquence and of his severity, by observing that a law existed against the duchess, and that a law was a sacred thing that no one should be permitted to evade.
'I am here in search of you, M. de Barthe, she said, colouring slightly, perhaps because my eyes betrayed my thought; 'to thank you. You have not fought, and yet you have conquered. My woman has just been with me, and she tells me that they are going. 'Going? I said, 'Yes, Mademoiselle, they are leaving the house. She did not understand my reservation.
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