"Should not one naturally enough be curious about all that Frederick the Great chooses to do?" replied Voltaire, who thus strained his complaisance in order to get the king to talk. "Perhaps certain men have no right to conceal anything, when their most indifferent word becomes a precept, and their most trilling action an example."
"My dear friend, you really gratify me. Who would not be pleased at the praise of Voltaire? All this, however, did not keep you from laughing at me during the half hour I was absent. Well, during that time you cannot suppose I could go to the opera, where Porporina lives, and recite a long madrigal, and return on foot, for on foot I was."
"Bah, sire, the opera is hard by, and you have gained a battle in the same time."
"You are mistaken. A much longer time is necessary," said the king, coldly; "ask Quintus Icilus. The marquis is so perfectly familiar with actresses, that he can tell you more than an hour is necessary to conquer them."
"Yes, that is as the case may be: for your sake, though, I hope M'lle Cochois has given you more trouble. However, gentlemen, I did not see La Porporina during the night, having only spoken to her servant, and asked about her."
"I went to take her a _flacon_, the good effects of which I have personally tested, when I have had attacks of pain in the stomach, which sometimes destroyed my consciousness. Well, you say nothing. You are all amazed. You wish to praise my paternal and royal benevolence, but dare not do so, because you think me ridiculous."
"Sire, if you are in love, like other mortals, I have no objection," said La Mettrie, "and see no occasion either for praise or blame."
"Well, my good Panurge, if I must speak plainly, I am not at all in love. I am a simple man, it is true, and have not the honor to be King of France; consequently, the style of manners which are proper enough for a great monarch, like Louis XV., would be unbecoming to myself, a petty Marquis of Brandebourg. In managing my business, I have much besides to attend to, and have not time to slumber in the bowers of Cytherea."
"Then I do not understand your anxiety about this little opera-singer," said La Mettrie; "and I shall not be able to know what to think unless this results from mere musical enthusiasm."