I had soon sufficient reason to be encouraged.  The piece was very ill played with respect to the actors, but the musical part was well sung and executed.  During the first scene, which was really of a delightful simplicity, I heard in the boxes a murmur of surprise and applause, which, relative to pieces of the same kind, had never yet happened.  The fermentation was soon increased to such a degree as to be perceptible through the whole audience, and of which, to speak—­after the manner of Montesquieu—­the effect was augmented by itself.  In the scene between the two good little folks, this effect was complete.  There is no clapping of hands before the king; therefore everything was heard, which was advantageous to the author and the piece.  I heard about me a whispering of women, who appeared as beautiful as angels.  They said to each other in a low voice:  “This is charming:  That is ravishing:  There is not a sound which does not go to the heart.”  The pleasure of giving this emotion to so many amiable persons moved me to tears; and these I could not contain in the first duo, when I remarked that I was not the only person who wept.  I collected myself for a moment, on recollecting the concert of M. de Treitorens.  This reminiscence had the effect of the slave who held the crown over the head of the general who triumphed, but my reflection was short, and I soon abandoned myself without interruption to the pleasure of enjoying my success.  However, I am certain the voluptuousness of the sex was more predominant than the vanity of the author, and had none but men been present, I certainly should not have had the incessant desire I felt of catching on my lips the delicious tears I had caused to flow.  I have known pieces excite more lively admiration, but I never saw so complete, delightful, and affecting an intoxication of the senses reign, during a whole representation, especially at court, and at a first performance.  They who saw this must recollect it, for it has never yet been equalled.

The same evening the Duke d’ Aumont sent to desire me to be at the palace the next day at eleven o’clock, when he would present me to the king.  M. de Cury, who delivered me the message, added that he thought a pension was intended, and that his majesty wished to announce it to me himself.  Will it be believed that the night of so brilliant a day was for me a night of anguish and perplexity?  My first idea, after that of being presented, was that of my frequently wanting to retire; this had made me suffer very considerably at the theatre, and might torment me the next day when I should be in the gallery, or in the king’s apartment, amongst all the great, waiting for the passing of his majesty.  My infirmity was the principal cause which prevented me from mixing in polite companies, and enjoying the conversation of the fair.  The idea alone of the situation in which this want might place me, was sufficient to produce it to such a degree as to make me faint away, or to recur to means to which, in my opinion, death was much preferable.  None but persons who are acquainted with this situation can judge of the horror which being exposed to the risk of it inspires.