"Sophie," said I to her at last, "this unfortunate affair forbids
my retaining you any longer in my service; I am compelled to
send you from me. I trust this noble lover of yours will never
forsake you; have a care only to conceal from him, should you
persist in encouraging his addresses, that he has a rival in the
person of his courier, l'Eclair."

Sophie threw herself weeping at my feet. I raised and encouraged
her by the kindest words to pursue the right path, but I remained
steady in my determination of sending her from me.

I was not mistaken. The duc de Villeroi became the possessor of
poor Sophie, and publicly boasted of having her under his protection.
He did not, however, proceed to these extreme measures until he
had essayed every possible means of effecting a reconciliation
with me, and he employed more than a hundred persons in the vain
attempt of inducing me to pardon him. With this view the marechale
de Mirepoix, whose succour he had implored, observed to me that
it was sometimes necessary to feign to overlook an insult; I
replied, that dissimulation was an art I knew nothing of, nor did
I wish ever to acquire it.

"Really, my dear countess," cried she, "you should not live at
court, you are absolutely unfit for it."

"It may be so," replied I; "but I would rather quit Versailles
altogether than be surrounded by false and perfidious friends."

All the remonstrances of the good-natured marechale were fruitless,