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Updated: May 4, 2025
I agreed that my housekeeper should wait up for me till midnight, and that we could talk over our reply with our heads on the pillow. My Dubois had a separate room with a good bed and excellent furniture. She gave me a very good supper, and we spent a delicious night. In the morning we felt more in love than ever, and were not at all disposed to comply with Lebel's wishes.
My old priests, with their heavy old-fashioned copes, had always seemed to me like the magi, from whose lips came the eternal truths, whereas the new religion to which I was introduced was all print and calico, a piety decked out with ribbons and scented with musk, a devotion which found expression in tapers and small flower-pots, a young lady's theology without stay or style, as composite as the polychrome frontispiece of one of Lebel's prayer-books.
The king, unable to interpose his authority in a woman's quarrel, was yet determined on giving a striking proof of the attachment he bore to me. I had up to this period occupied Lebel's apartments in the chateau: it was not befitting my station, and the king thought he would give me those of madame de Pompadour, to which I had some claim.
I agreed that my housekeeper should wait up for me till midnight, and that we could talk over our reply with our heads on the pillow. My Dubois had a separate room with a good bed and excellent furniture. She gave me a very good supper, and we spent a delicious night. In the morning we felt more in love than ever, and were not at all disposed to comply with Lebel's wishes.
He had spoken with so much concentrated fury, and the hatred and contempt expressed in his pale eyes were so fierce that an involuntary ice-cold shiver ran down the length of Lebel's spine. But, even so, he would not give in; he tried to sneer and to keep up something of his former surly defiance. "Bah!" he exclaimed, and with a lowering glance gave hatred for hatred, and contempt for contempt.
The king, unable to interpose his authority in a woman's quarrel, was yet determined on giving a striking proof of the attachment he bore to me. I had up to this period occupied Lebel's apartments in the chateau: it was not befitting my station, and the king thought he would give me those of madame de Pompadour, to which I had some claim.
You know all about them, do you not?" While Chauvelin spoke, a look of furtive terror had crept into Lebel's eyes; his cheeks became the colour of lead. But even so, he tried to keep up an air of incredulity and of amazement. "I?" he exclaimed. "What do you mean, citizen Chauvelin? What should I know about it?"
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