faction whereof Christophe de Beaumont was the chief, this same concubine had rendered, by the overthrow of the Minister Choiseul and the defeat of the Parlement, such important services to the Church,—services which the Archbishop himself admitted,—that it was out of the question to disgrace and degrade her by canonical censure.
The chiefs of the party were, besides Monsieur de Beaumont and Madame du Barry, the Duc d'Aiguillon, the Due de Richelieu, the Due de Fronsac, Maupeou and Terray. All would fall by the same blow that overthrew Madame du Barry; so they had every motive not to declare against her.
On the other side, the party of Monsieur de Choiseul, which was everywhere, even in the very bedchamber, clamoured for the favourite's expulsion and a speedy confession on the King's part. It was indeed a curious spectacle; here was the party of philosophers, Jansenists and free-thinkers urging the King to confess, while the Archbishop of Paris, the priests and the men of piety were eager for the Royal penitent to refuse to take this step.
Such was the paradoxical condition of mind of those most interested in the question when, on May ist, at eleven in the morning, the Archbishop arrived to see the sick Monarch. Without awaiting further developments, poor Madame du Barry fled at once, on learning that the Archbishop was in the Palace.
It was the Duc de Richelieu who received the Prelate, of whose intentions he was still in ignorance.
"Monseigneur," began the Duke, " I pray and beseech you not to terrify the King with this inopportune theological dogma, which has been the death of so many sick men. If you are curious to hear a list of pretty, dainty sins, sit down there, and I will confess instead of the King; I'll tell you some tales the like of which you have not heard since you were Archbishop of Paris. But now, if my offer does not please you, if you are really resolved to confess the King and repeat at Versailles the scenes the Bishop of Soissons provoked at Metz, if you will dismiss Madame du Barry publicly and scandalously, just think of the consequences and how these will affect your own interests. You thereby assure the triumph of the Due de Choiseul, your bitterest enemy, from whom Madame du Barry has done so much to deliver you; you persecute your friend to benefit your enemy,—yes, Monseigneur I repeat, your friend, and so good a friend that only yesterday she was saying to me, and not for the first time either: 'If the Archbishop will only leave us in peace, he shall have his Cardinal's hat, I undertake to get it for him and I promise he shall not be disappointed.'"
The Archbishop let Monsieur de Richelieu say out his say, because although of the same opinion in his inmost heart, he felt he must make a show of being over-persuaded. Fortunately the Duc d'Aumont, Madame Adélaide and the Bishop of Senlis joined their instances to the Marshal's and gave the Prelate further arms against himself. He promised not to press the matter, and on entering the King's chamber said never a word about confession. This so greatly reassured the august patient that he had Madame du Barry recalled without a moment's delay, and when she arrived kissed her lovely hands with tears of pleasure in his eyes.
The next day. May 2nd, the King felt somewhat better; in place of Lamartinière, his ordinary medical attendant, Madame du Barry had sent him her own two doctors. Lorry and Bordeu. They had been instructed, first to hide from the King the true nature of his malady, to say nothing of the seriousness of his present condition, and above all to disabuse him of any notion that he was so ill as to require the services of the Priests.
This temporary improvement in the King's health enabled the Countess to resume for the moment her usual unconstrained behaviour, her general style of conversation and cajolery. But just as she had succeeded by dint of vivacity and wit in calling up a smile to the sick man's face, Lamartinière, who still enjoyed his right of entrée, appeared at the threshold, and deeply offended at the preference accorded to Lorry and Bordeu, marched straight up to the King, felt his pulse and solemnly shook his head.
The King had raised no objections, only gazing at him with terrified eyes. His fear was redoubled when he saw the great man shake his head so discouragingly.
"Well, Lamartinière?" asked the Monarch.
