Cardinal Bernis was in his boudoir. Before him lay the list of those
persons whom he had invited to his entertainment of the next day, and he
saw with proud satisfaction that all had accepted his invitation.
"I shall, then, have a brilliant and stately society to meet this
Austrian archduke," said the well-contented cardinal to himself. "The
elite of the nobility, all the cardinals and ambassadors, will make
their appearance, and Austria will be compelled to acknowledge that
France maintains the best understanding with all the European powers,
and that she is not the less respected because the Marquise de Pompadour
is in fact King of France."
"Ah, this good marquise," continued the cardinal, stretching himself
comfortably upon his lounge and taking an open letter from the table,
"this good marquise gives me in fact some cause for anxiety. She writes
me here that France is in favor of the project of Portugal for the
suppression of the order of the Jesuits, and I am so to inform the pope!
This is a dangerous thing, marquise, and may possibly burn your tender
fingers. The suppression of the Jesuits! Is not that to explode a
powder-barrel in the midst of Europe, that may shatter all the states?
No, no, it is foolhardiness, and I have not the courage to apply the
match to this powder-barrel! I fear it may blow us all into the air."
And the cardinal began to read anew the letter of Madame de Pompadour
which a French courier had brought him a few hours before.
"Ahem, that will be dangerous for the good father!" said he, shaking his
head. "Austria also agrees to this magnificent plan of the Portuguese
Minister Pombal, and I am inclined to think that this Austrian archduke
has come to Rome only for the purpose of bringing to the pope the
consent of the Empress Maria Theresa! Ha, ha! how singular! their chaste
and virtuous Maria Theresa and our good Pompadour are both agreed in
the matter, and in taking this course are both acting against their own
will. The women love the Jesuits, these good fathers who furnish them
with an excuse for every weakness, and hold a little back door open for
every sin. That is very convenient for these good women! Yes, yes, the
women--I think I know them."
And, smiling, the cardinal sank deeper into himself, dreaming of past,
of charming times, when he had not yet counted sixty-five years. He
dreamed of Venice, and of a beautiful nun he had loved there, and who
for him had often left her cloister in the night-time, and, warm and
glowing with passion, had come to him. He dreamed of these heavenly
hours, where all pleasure and all happiness had been compressed into one
blessed intoxication of bliss, where the chaste priestess of the Church
had for him changed to a sparkling priestess of joy!