Gallantry Unmasked; OR, WOMEN IN Their proper Colours. A NOVEL.  
LONDON, Printed for B. R. and are to be sold by R. Baldwin in the Old Bailey. 1690.   

GALLANTRY UNMASKED; OR, WOMEN in their Proper Colours.  
THOSE Women who were naturally inclined to Gallantry, were the more encouraged to it, during the reign of the Great Alexander, by that splendour they saw those Ladies arrive at who had the good fortune to please him: so that there were none but endeavoured to charm him; and it being impossible for him to satisfy all, how bountiful soever Nature had been, many escaped him, not so much for want of desire, as ability.  
Those who were not of the number of the Elect, did not fall under the despair, especially those who were so generous to expect principally the pleasures of enjoyment, and had hopes of being acceptable elsewhere. Considering, their Ambition excepted, which they could not satisfy, they might perhaps find a better account in another place, and to examine the matter critically, a King might perhaps deserve less Esteem for that, than a Man of a lower Quality: that besides they might have the pleasure to change when the Party was no longer agreeable, which good breeding would not have allowed, had it been their destinies to be beloved by that Great Monarch.  
Amongst these, none were sooner comforted than the Mareschalless de la Ferte, and Madam de Lionne: they had both Age enough to renounce the Vanities of the World; but as there are some whom Sin never abandons, since they had raised their thoughts so high, being resolved to convince the World they were still to be valued, they appeared in all the gaiety of Youth.  
De Fiesque had long been Madam de Lionne's beloved Gallant, and she returned the pleasures he gave her by assisting his wants; so that by her means he made a figure like the rest of the World. He was not angry at her desire to please the King, neither would it have troubled him more had she succeeded in it: but finding, that not considering he had served her from her youth, she was purveying for herself else where, he frankly bid her think well of what she was going to do; that it was enough to be contented with the leave of a fulsome Husband, without suffering the refuse of others; that if he had afforded his assistance to her amour with the King, 'twas upon promise that he should only partake the pleasures of the Body, without any interest in her affection; but her daily proceed sufficiently convinced him she was in search of some new Ragoust; that he was not at all pleased at it, and in a word, if she did not reform her Conduct, she might expect from him all the resentment that an injured Lover is capable of showing on the like occasion.  
The Lady was not at all pleased with these reproaches, and concluding he would nevertheless be happy enough in rendering her his service, being so well paid for his pains. You are very pleasant, said she, to talk thus, this is all a Husband can pretend to: But she very well perceived the reason of this boldness; and it was the favours she had done him, made him presume she had not the power to leave him: But she would soon convince him of the contrary, and she would immediately go about it. De Fiesque smiled at these threats, and the acquaintance he had so long with her, persuading him he loved her now no more than a Husband does his Wife, he imagined, his Interest excepted, it would not be very difficult to forget the loss. But he found a surprising return of tenderness, for he was no sooner out of her Lodgings, but he wished himself there again; and had not his pride retained him, he would have flown that minute to have asked her pardon; yet he could not forbear writing to her to this effect.  
Mr. de Fiesque to Madam de Lionne.  
COuld I have endured your proceed without Jealousy, it would have been an argument that I had but little passion for you; but there is a time for all things, and it would afford you too much reason of offence to be angry any longer. I must confess, I cannot forbear loving you, be your Conduct what it will; but yet reflect, if I pardon you so easily, it is because I am so vain to flatter myself I might perhaps be mistaken; but know likewise, you should not have found me so good natured, had there been any effect produced from your intentions.  
Whether Madam de Lionne took any new offence at the Letter, or had too good an appetite (as is more likely) to be contented with the Count, who who had the reputation of being more Gentile than Vigorous, she threw the Letter into the fire, and told the Messenger, she had no answer to return to it. This increased the passion of the Lover, who with all haste imaginable flew to her Apartment, telling her, if she would not pardon him, he came to die at her feet, but hoped his offence was not beyond the reach of mercy, that his Notary's Wife, called le Vasseur, had forgiven her Husband, tho' he had caused her to be proclaimed a public Whore by arrest of Parliament, and had long consigned her in the Magdelonnettes or Bridewell; that his Crime was not so notorious as the Husband's, who whatever he perceived, was obliged by the Articles and Contract of Marriage to be silent; that there was no such Law for the Lovers, but on the contrary, Complaints were always permitted, as the kind effects of Passion, and to deny him, was an infringement on his undoubted Right.  
Tho' the only difference between Madam de Lionne and Mademoiselle le Vasseur was, that one was a Notary's, and the other the Wife to a Minister of State; that one was declared so by an Arrest of Parliament, and the other by the Voice of the People, which is nevertheless the Voice of God; the Comparison did not please her, and she told Fiesque, he was very impudent in making the parallel. De Fiesque knew enough to answer about her Virtue, but coming to her with a design of re-accommodation, to which perhaps his interst had inclined him, he continued in the same tune he began, tho' to little purpose; for Madam de Lionne, who would not be insulted over, and being bankrupt in Virtue, took not such care of the appearances of it, told him, with a design to enrage him the more, that she would make a Lover to his face; and that the more he should be concerned at it, the more pleasure it would afford her. De Fiesque was so incensed at this harsh reply, that taking a Lute that was in her Chamber, and with which he used sometimes to divert her, he broke it in a thousand pieces. He told her, that since she took such pains to torment his Heart, he would revenge himself upon that Instrument which had heretofore given her such pleasure; and that as she might perhaps make choice of one that could touch it as well as himself, he should be glad to prevent that from serving another which had been of use to him: But he had scarcely spoke, when she made answer, whom she chose should have no occasion to animate himself with Preludes; that she had often indeed counterfeited a delight to hear him play, knowing nothing could otherwise be expected from him; but she was of the same opinion as himself, that he had done well in breaking the Lute, since it only served to put her in mind of his weakness, and when that object was away there was nothing to recall so disagreeable an Idea, and he had by it done no more than prevented her design.  
As one Reproach draws on another, this Conversation, how disagreeable soever, would not have ended so soon, had not the Duke de Saux made a visit. He soon perceived the condition of the poor Lute, and irnagined a quarrel between 'em, which he was quickly certain of when he had looked upon the two Lovers. He took a great freedom in his Speech, and delighted in Raillery. Madam, said he, I find there will sometimes be fall out, and one of you has revenged himself upon that innocent Lute; if it was you, Madam, perhaps you had reason for it, and I cannot blame you; but if it was my Friend, he was very much in the wrong, for he has not lived to this Age without knowing that Women are sometimes to be amused with so foolish a toy, and it gives us time to prepare to render 'em better service.  
This Discourse had been sufficient to have offended, not only a nice Lady, but one that would have appeared so; yet Madam the Lionne, who liked the Duke de Saux, thought only of persuading him that she was breaking off for ever with Fiesque, that if his heart had thought any thing in favour of her, no time might be lost; and not reslecting that she was going to dishonour herself, and that on the other side, a Lover had rather doubt of his Mistress' intriegue than be convinced of it, especially by herself. What would you have, Sir, says she, Engagements cannot last for ever, and I cannot deny but I have had some consideration for the Count de Fiesque, yet it is hard enough that we are bound for ever to our Husbands, without running the same sat with our Gallants; this would make us more unhappy than we are: we choose a Lover to serve us whilst he is agrecable, and 'twould be horrid were we obliged to keep him when he displeases us. Add, Madam, if you please, says the Duke, when he can render you no further service; 'tis for this you choose 'em, and what tyranny would it be to give the World occasion to talk, and not reap the profit of it, for which alone you Women can consent to sacrifice your Reputations? For my part, continued he, I should approve that, according to the custom amongst the Turks, Seraglios were erected, not truly to enclose, as they do, the invalid Women, since they will permit me, I hope, to believe with all respect to 'em, that at any age they will still have more appetite than myself, whom nevertheless I have no little opinion of: but for poor, decayed Lovers, who are so worn out in their Mistress' embraces, that they are incapable of rendering 'em any further service, if this should happen, and I had any part of the Government, I do assure you, I would first of all give my Vote for an Apartment there for our Friend: What say you, Madam, would not this do well? And think you not that there are persons in as good health put every day into the Hospital of the Invalids? How strangely you talk? cried Madam de Lionne, and if we did not know that you have no ill meaning in what you say, who would not blush at your discourse. With this she put her Fan before her face, to make him believe she was yet capable of some confusion; but the Duke, who knew how long she had parted with her Modesty, smiled to himself at her deportment, not caring to drive the Intriegue farther.  
The Count had heard all this without joining in the Conversation, and he found that a lasting Intriegue was not unlike a Marriage, the tenderness whereof is scarcely to be perceived, till the bonds are breaking; he raved, he sighed, and the presence of the Duke was not able to make him restrain himself; they were good friends, and Confidents to each other a thousand times; and two days were not passed, since the Duke desired him to do him what service he could with the Marchioness de Coevures, Madam de Lionne's Daughter: For this reason Fiesque resolved to be gone, hoping the Duke would be more serious in his absence; but he, who seldom had this Character with the Women, careless of his Friend's Interest, resolved to see how far Madam de Lionne's folly would carry her. No sooner then was the Count gone, but she said a thousand things to discover her passion, not in formal terms, but in words intelligible enough to one of a wit inferior to the Duke's. And if the Duke had not feared that the complying with her might have been an obstacle to his amour with the Marchioness de Coevures, neither his cruelty nor scrupulousness would have suffered her to langnish any longer; but doubting lest the young Marchioness, whose Soul was not so hardened as her Mothers, might make a difficulty to hear him, pretended to understand nothing; and chose rather to pass for a dull Brute, than occasion a difference with his Mistress.  
He found, when he went away, the Count de Fiesque waiting for him at the corner of a Street, who asked him if he had done any thing for him? No, my poor Count, answered he, for I did not take you to be Fool enough to be so concerned for an old Whore; but since I know your weakness, let me tell you in two words, that if you do not serve me with the Marchioness de Coevures, I will do you such dis-service with her Mother, that there will be no returning for you Do you hear, amongst ourselves, I believe that the brawny Calves of my Legs, and my broad Shoulders begin to please her more than your easy Air, and Barbary shape: and if she once have the trial of it, I leave you to judge what will become of you. The Count desired him to be serious: The Duke told him, he might take it as he pleased, but he told him nothing but the truth; and the other being obliged to believe him, after he had sworn several times to it, he desired him not to hunt in his purlieus, confessing ingenuously, that he loved her for several reasons, that is, for giving him both Money and Pleasure. This confession of the Count's to any other, would have rather excited than abated their desires; all the Youth at the Court making it their business to be too hard for the Ladies; but the Duke, who was the most generous of all Men, bid him rest satisfied upon that point, and that both Madam de Lionne and her Money should be safe for him; and that (excepting the pleasure of Cuckolding a Minister of State) what recompense soever was given for it, would be less than he deserved; that nevertheless he should not remain so assured upon this promise as to neglect the service he expected from him, and that sometimes that was done out of Revenge which was not performed for Love; and that if he did not assist him with the Marchioness, he would place himself so well with the Mother, that it should be very difficult for him, as he said before, to become her Patroon again.  
Although this was spoke in Raillery, it nevertheless made a violent impression the Count de Fiesque's thoughts; but as it was imposlible for him to live without knowing whether his Mistress was unfaithful, he writ her these words as from the Duke; and for that purpose was obliged to borrow another hand, his own being so well known to Madam de Lionne.  
YOu must needs have an ill opinion of me for giving such reception to all the favours you gave me; but, Madam, when it is one's ill fortune to be in the Surgeon's hands, is it not better to seem not to understand, than expose a Lady to such certain repentance as must reasonably occasion hatred to succeed the friendship? If they tell me true, I shall be well in eight days; it will seem a long time to one that has more than acknowledgement at his heart; but give me leave to break off this entertainment, it excites some motions that are not proper for me till a perfect cure; I hope it will be speedy; and remember, that I am more to be pitied than you imagine, since that which is a sign of health in others, is a token of illness in me, or at least an aggravation of it.  
It is hard to say whether Madam de Lionne had more Grief or Joy at the receipt of this Letter; for, as she was glad at the hopes that were given her, so on the other part, she was grieved at the accident that obliged her to wait; so that divided between both extremes, she remained some time in doubt whether she should return an answer; but the Messenger pressing her to come to a determination, her Temper carried it, and thinking that she had in earnest an affair with the Duke de Saux, she called for Ink and Paper, and writ these words,  
A Letter from Madam de Lionne to the Duke de Saux.  
IT is not a moment since I believed it the greatest unhappiness to have to do with a Brute; but now, methinks it is far worse to have an affair with a Debauchee; if you had been only insensible, I might have hoped, in speaking yet plainer to you than I have done, to make you at last understand my Language; but what does your understanding it now signify, since you cannot return an answer? This accident has thrown me into a despair; for who can ever assure me that I can place a confidence in you; there are so many Quacks at Paris, and if by misfortune, you are fallen under any of their hands, into what an extremity will you reduce those who shall fall into yours? if decency would permit me to send you my Chirurgeon, he is an able Man, and would soon lead you out of this misfortune; let me know your thoughts of it; for since I can already forgive such a crime as yours, I am too sensible I can never defend myself against any thing you desire.  
Oh, the foolish, silly, lewd Strumpet, cried the Count de Fiesque, when he had read the Letter, and must not I have an heart as vile as hers, if I can love her after this: and imagining these to be his true thoughts, he put the Letter in his pocket, and went to her with a composed Countenance, and forced Air. As I have been your Friend a long time, Madam, said he, it is impossible for me to renounce your Interest for any small offence; and as a confirmation of what I say, I recommend to you one that belongs to me, who is incomparable for some things; I mean my Chirurgeon: you ought not to refuse him, for no doubt but you will soon have occasion for him, if you follow the courses you take. Madam de Lionne was in confusion at this discourse; she was in fear of some discovery; but the Count soon confirmed her; for his face grown red with anger, and not keeping the calmness of temper he intended, Oh, ye infamous Creature, continued he, are these the proofs you give me of your friendship, snewing her the Letter, what Woman is there, tho' never such a Prostitute, who would write in these terms: Mr. de Lionne shall know it, 'tis a revenge I own myself; he shall do me reason, since I have not the power to do it myself, and if he has the baseness to forgive it, I'll take the pleasure to tell it every one, and let all Paris know what you are.  
He made other reproaches which were all endured by this Woman, with extraordinary patience; for finding herself in his power, she durst not incense him more. She had recourse to tears, but he appeared unalter'd, departing in great fury. Her Tears which were only artificial, were soon dried up when he was gone, so she sent immediately for the Duke de Saux, desiring him to draw her out of this affair; and since it had happened to her by using his name, he was engaged in it further than he imagined; and to oblige him not to refuse her his assistance, she promised him he should be sure of hers towards her Daughter, and kept her word like a Woman of honour, for when the Duke had acquainted her how the Intrigue stood, she fully prevailed upon her inclinations, which were already very much in favour of the Duke.  
But yet she articled with him, that this Intrigue should not be at all to the prejudice of her Rights, and to confirm the Treaty, she demanded some earnest of his promises. The Duke had passed the night with Lovison d'Arquien, a famous Courtesan, and was not in a condition to afford her any; yet thinking that a man of his age could not long be out of stock, he asked her if she would have money in hand, or defer the payment to the following night. Madam de Lionne, who knew Man to be mortal, thought ready money best, but nevertheless she told him, if he was not provided with the whole Sum, she would give him credit for the remainder for the time he should require.  
The Duke quickly understood the meaning of this, and placed the Cushions for a Table whereon to Count the money; but when he pulled forth his purse, it was quite empty, to the great astonishment of the one, and no less Confusion of the other. She flew from his arms in an anger more easy to be imagined, than described, and as he would have held her, giving her languishing kisses: What would you have, Sir, said she, would you give me greater tokens of your impotency! I would die, Madam, answered the Duke, or repair my honour, and one of 'em must happen to me this moment. Is it of a violent death Sir, said she, that you pretend to die? rallying him, if so, you must make use of a rope, for who can believe your Sword proper for that purpose, and when you could not find one drop of blood, having such occasion for it, it is more reasonable to imagine the Source will be less in an Action so contrary to nature. When she had said this, she placed herself upon another Chair, and to hid her anger, took up a Screen that lay by chance near her; fortune would have it, that upon it was painted the story of the Marquis de Langes, who was divorced for his impotency. The Trial by the Parliament was described likewise, and Madam de Lionne casting her Eyes upon it, here, says she, you are drawn to the Life, it is impossible to do it better; and if you remember what you told us of your abilities the other day, you will find, that except the demanding a Trial, you have both performed alike. You have only now to marry, 'tis the way to spread your Reputation. And I do not doubt but to have you as well as that able man, for an Ornament to my Chimney. You have reason to insult over me, Madam, answered the Duke, and my offence is of a nature never to be pardoned; for my part I know not myself, and after I have considered my misfortune, I can only attribute it to one thing. You have heard, continued he, of the Perfume called Pulvillio, a Curse upon 
* A famous attender of a Bath, now first Valet de Chambre to the King.  Vienne for helping me to this Invention, which to give me a good scent, has made me insensible. But Madam, the Charm will only last till I have bathed, give me sufficient time for that I conjure you, and I oblige myself to pay you Interest for my present defailure. Nevertheless remember, Madam, that I am not the only Man Vienne has engaged in these unfortunate accidents, the same thing happened to the Count de St. Poll the other day, when he wanted his Compliment to a fine young Lady; I made a jest of it then, but since, to my great regret, I have made trial of it myself, it would be Heresy not to believe it. These words afforded some consolation to Madam de Lionne, she had heard of the Count de St. Poll's Adventure, so that ask the particulars from the Duke, he gave her what information he could, and to make a greater impression of the truth of it, he repeated a Song made upon that occasion to an air in Psyche.  
She suffered him to sing one verse without interruption, because she had a mind to know the whole Effect of this damned powder, which she thought deserved much more to be condemned to the fire, than the works of Petit sentenced to the Flames by Judgement of Parliament. But as he was going to pursue with the other Verse, hold Duke, cried she, tho' you have one quality of a Musician, you want the others, and are in the number of those that one would give one Pistol to sing, and ten to leave off. The Duke told her he had nothing to say against her Reproaches, and she used him too favourably, considering his fault. But whilst he thus humbled himself, he found a willingness in a certain part to frame a better Excuse, and thinking to Establish his Reputation without a Bath, he made some approaches, which gave him hopes of a happy success. Madam de Lionne was much surprised, and greatly overjoyed at the same time at this sudden alteration: but yet mistrusting her good Fortune, she yielded her hand to be better assured, and it being difficult to deceive her on that score, she soon perceived 'twas to little purpose to flatter herself with better fortune. The Duke was of the same opinion, when he perceived that weeping which he expected in a more manly figure, and departing in a vexation not to be equalled, he could scarcely forbear to give sad tokens of his despair. Madam de Lionne would not let him begun without a new raillery; do not think, says she, that this accident shall be in the least prejudicial to the friendship I have for you, you shall perceive it by the management of my Daughter, for instead of acquainting her of your inclinations for her, I will contrive that you shall never see her; this will be the means to preserve your Reputation, and the good Opinion she has of you: I believe, continued she, that this is the best service I can render you, in the condition you are in, and you will owe me no little Obligation for it.  
The Duke thought it not convenient to give her any answer, but going in all haste to Vienne's; you and your cursed Pulvillio have ruined my Reputation, cried he, and I'll burn your House immediately, if you promise me not to throw away what you have left of it. Vienne found him very angry, but knew not the meaning of it, until the Duke had told him his misfortune, concealing the name of the person. Upon my Faith, says Vienne, this is a pleasant story of you, and your Pulvillio; remain here with me but two or three days from the Company of Loüison d'Arquien, the Count de Tallard, or any of that kind, and you will find if it be my Pulvillio that hinders you from doing your Duty. This was a Banter, cunningly enough invented by the Count de St. Poll to excuse himself to La Mignard, whom he had long courted to a meeting but when he had promised the poor Girl Mountains and Miracles, could never arrive to the third part of my prowess, who am above twice his age. I cannot blame him for making the best Excuse he could for himself, but I should have been obliged to him, not to have done it at my expense. I have ten thousand Crowns worth of Pulvillio by me, and do you but as well as he, spread your mad fancies about the Town, and I shall be sent to Goal.  
Vienne took the freedom of telling all the Gentlemen of their little faults, so that the Count was not angry to hear of his, but on the contrary, told him, he would try who had most reason, and to that intent, would not leave his House for four or five days, and he should see he would refrain from the Company of the Count de Tallard, and Loüison, if he would but take care to fetch a piece of Champain Wine, that his Servants had discovered to be excellent, from St. John's Church Yard, at the Sign of the two Torches; and that they might not drink it alone, he should acquaint the Marquis de Sable, and two or three of his Friends, with his design to treat 'em with a dish of meat at his House; and that they might bring Madam du Mesnil with 'em, were they dexterous enough to persuade her from the arms of her old Marshal, that brags he has a part of his Body as stiff as his Wooden Leg. That he did not desire this Woman for any lewd design, since no body but the Marquis de Sable would be contented with the Marshal de Grancey's leave; and that he, for his part, had rather lie with a Woman moderately handsome, who had an engaging Gallant, than with the most Charming Woman in the World, that did, like her, prostitute herself to so nasty a Fellow as the Marshal.  
Vienne told him 'twas well he was so nice, and that he daily shown it sufficiently by his intimacy with Loüison the refuse of the Nation. That as it was not his business, he had nothing to say to it, but as for Madam du Mesnil, he did not truly desire her Company, to bring a Scandal upon his House; that they might eat and drink as much as they pleased, but he had no further accommodation for 'em.  
After this, he went as the Duke commanded him, and the Guests brought du Mesnil with 'em, and made such good Entertainment, that the Duke de Saux soon perceived the Witchcraft of the Pulvillio would not last long. About the end of the Feast, a Servant acquainted the Company, there was one to inquire for the Marquis de Sable, they bid him be called in, and were extremely surprised to find him a Guard belonging to a Marshal of France. He told the Marquis he had orders to secure him in Bishops-fort, which startled the Company, that knew not the meaning of it. The Marquis only laughed at it, and as they were going to ask him the meaning; Go, go, return (says he to the Guard) to the old Fool the Marshal, tell him we are drinking his health, and that afterwards we will kiss his Mistress, and if he has a mind to his share, let him come to us; give him a glass of Wine, says he to a Lackey, this is all he will get by his Journey. Every one knew by what the Marquis spoke, that the Compliment came from the Marshal de Grancey, and before the Guard had drunk his Glass, so many Ralleys had passed at it, that, tho' he was a notable drinker, he was forced to break off in the middle of his draught, to desire the Company to forbear saying any thing disrespectfully concerning he Marshal; at this every body was ready to laugh out, and the Duke de Saux, who was nearest the Cupboard, got up with a pretence to make him drink the remainder of his Wine, but spilt it all maliciously upon his Clothes, and Linen. The Guard was almost angry, but the Marquis appeased him by presenting another brimmer to him, desiring him to drink it to the Marshal's health. After this they gave him another, and in a little time he was so drunk, that no body railed at the Marshal more than himself. In this good humour they sent him back, and the Marshal, impatient to know the success of his Deputy, had conducted him within a hundred paces of the Gate, he no sooner saw him, but he threw himself out of his Coach to ask him what was the reason he stayed so long? He found the Guard was drunk by the first word he spoke, and growing into a great passion, called for a Cane, but none being found in the Coach, he bid a Servant of his, called Gendarme, (who was both his Valet de Chambre, and Secretary, tho' he could neither write nor read,) to unbrace his Leg, and that should serve him for a stick. Gendarme told him it could not be; and upon this he slew at his Peruque, discharging his anger upon him. When the Marshal was tired with beating him; he called the Guard, who was slunk off, and ask him fresh questions, his anger was much more increased, when he heard du Mesnil was of the debauchery. For the occasion of his anger hitherto, only was because she had seen the Marquis de Sable privately, and this was the reason he would have sent him to Prison.  
The Guard had no sooner spoke, but he cried out he was undone, and reaching his hand to Gendarme, come says he, let us forget what's passed, and tell me if I be not very unhappy, what is to be done my Friend? But be sure you say nothing of it to my Wife, for you know she always told me what a Carrian this was. Gendarme would not for twice as many blows, but this had happened; he laughed in his sleeve, and would make him no answer. The Marshal desired him again to forget all injuries, and to put him in good humour, promised to give him the suit he had on that day. Gendarme was a little appeased at that promise, but glad of the opportunity to mortify him, Have not I often told you, said he, as well as the Mareschaless, that she was a Whore? were I in your place, as soon as I came home, I would turn that Bastard out of doors, who is none of yours I warrant you, and yet you Educate him with the greatest Faith in the World, whilst your own Daughters, more perhaps out of necessity than inclination— Ah Traitor, says the Marshal, interrupting him, will you always be reasoning? What my Boy is not my own; he does not resemble me 
Large flat Ears.  like two drops of Water? has he not the Ears of the Grancey's? a sure sign he is of the Family: I'll have you hanged, and tho' I saved you from the halter at Thionville, I'll send you to your former destiny.  
Gendarme, altho' he had known he should be worse treated than before, could not forbear answering these invectives. This is sine, cries he, to take a Bastard's part, and neglect your own Daughters, I thought you might be angry at what I was saying of them, but for aught I sinned that's your least care. 'Tis true, he has your great Ears, but is that so unquestionable a sign he is your own, as you believe? How many Women bring forth Children with some particular mark, when the Mothers have taken too much notice of some disagreeable Object; your Mother perhaps might look upon— he meant an Ass, but daring not to speak the Word, he muttered it to himself. The Marshal took but little notice of it, and being appeased because he yielded him the resemblance of the Ears; well then, says he, what is to be done? shall I suffer a Girl to remain in these Villains hands, whom they have certainly taken away by force. Gendarme who knew they were at a debauch, and being dry with railing, thinking a Glass or two of Wine would fall to his share, could he persuade the Marshal to go thither; after he had set his Face to Counterfeit a Man of thought; upon my Faith, said he, if you will take my advice, we will go immediately to 'em; we shall compass two ends in it; one the bringing back of Mesnil, and the other the hindering the accomplishing perhaps of something that may not please you. For how do we know, Wine renders some very brisk; and makes 'em perform marvels on those occasions: But shall not I venture myself too much, quoth the Marshal? How critical you are, cry's Gendarme, when you go every day you know where, do you make a scruple of going to Viennes, where all the people of Quality rendezvous.  
These reasons were sufficient to persuade the Marshal, but desirous to be accompanied with a Guard, he would have had that fellow that had been there before follow him, but he was not to be found; for reposing himself upon a Stall, he was fallen so fast asleep, that when they found him it was impossible to wake him. The Marshal would have had Gendarme put on his Coat, but he not caring to be obliged to make any hazardous compliment to those, of whose discretion and respect he was so little assured, told him, he was too well known by the Company to take any figure but his own; and the Marshal yielding to his reasons, suffered the Guard to sleep undisturbed.  
No sooner was he arrived at Vienne's, but he made so much haste into the room where the Company was, that they had not time to acquaint 'em of his coming; they were extremely surprised to see him, but Madam de Mesnil most of all, who thought after this he would no longer furnish for her Equipage. The Duke de Saux, as the most considerable, began to speak first, telling the Marshal, that having a design to be merry, he sent to invite this company, who going to Madam du Mesnil's, would have engaged her of the party, but she was so averse to it, that they were forced to carry her in their arms to the Coach, and they found their Company was not at all pleasant to her; for she had neither eat nor drunk since she was there, and that they would never hereafter force any body against their inclinations.  
The Marshal easily swallowed this discourse, and desirous to make Gendarme take notice of it, whom he thought behind him, but who was at the Cupboard drinking of brimmers of Wine; he gave a Lackey, who was bringing a Ragoust to make 'em relish the Liquor, such a blow on his arm, that the Dish was thrown down. This broke off the discourse, and he thought himself obliged to excuse it: They told him it was no matter, bid him not concern himself, for the entertainment was so good, that there was enough left for him and them too: At the same time, the Duke de Saux took him by the Arm, making him sit down between du Mesnil and himself; and every thing was so well, that they began to eat and drink as before.  
Madam du Mesnil, who was full up to the very Throat, affected a great Sobriety and Melancholy, and 'tis hard to say in which she was the greatest Hypocrite. Every one told her they wondered she would not eat, now, since she had all she desired so near her; but since the Marshal did not press her to it, as she expected, she refused it in a languishing air, which made those smile who knew how she behaved herself before he came in. The Marshal, almost dead with hunger, thought of nothing but shilling his belly; and tho' he spoke some few words to oblige her to the same, yet she had a mind to be more entreated. After he had appeased his hunger, being now at leisure to take care of her, grow more gallant. She seemed to yield to what he desired, began to eat a fresh, tho' her health ran no little danger by it.  
Hereupon the Company said, 'twas easy to perceive who had the power over her: This made the Marshal smile in his sleeve, and he was so tickled at it, that he could not forbear treading upon the Lady's toes in sign of friendship. The Debauch was driven on to excess, and when they had railed at all the World, they began to speak ill of one another. The Marshal told the Duke de Saux, that he need not wonder his being so lusty and fat, when his Brother the Marquis de Ragni was so thin and lean; that he was made between two Doors, when his Brother was got in a Bed; that surprising joys were greater than those expected in course, and he could let him know, if he did not already, that he owed as much respect to the Duke de Roquelaure as to his own Father. The Duke de Saux, to return it in his own coin, told him, that he could not speak so precisely of his, since his Mother had had so many Gallants, that it was impossible for him to say to which he owed his Birth; that it was pity his Daughter was not educated by so able a Woman; that perhaps they might not have been so high and proud; for the only difference of their Temper and their Grandmother's, was, that they have two Princes for their Gallants, when she always took the first that came: That nevertheless it was reported they held not always their Hearts so high; for if Fame was to be credited, they had no great aversion to one of their Servants, but it was not to be mentioned for fear of injuring them, and he was ready to sign, if he pleased, that it was only a story invented by some malicious body.  
The Marshal de Grancey swore it was an untruth; that it was true indeed, there was one of the Servants more agreeable to 'em than the rest, for his Person, Dressing, and Wit; but seeing the Town talked of it, he had turned him away, to cut off all colour to these false reports; and to prove what he said to be authentic, he called for some Wine, protesting that he would drink four Glasses in each hand, and that they should hear him after that swear the same thing, and what could be a greater proof of the truth of it, since in Vino Veritas, the honest Drunkard always speaks his mind. This was too plain to be denied; and they fell into discourse of the amour of Monsieur with Mademoiselle de Grancey, and upon the passion of Monsieur the Duke for her Sister the Countess de Maré, which gave an opportunity to one of the Company to sing some Verses made upon that occasion.  
The Marshal was so far in his Cups, that he would by all means learn the Song, and sing it with the rest; this diverted 'em for some time, after which they began to think of retiring home. The Duke de Saux forgetting his promise to Vienne, went into his Coach, with a resolution to pass the night with du Mesnil, if the Marshal de Grancey, who had taken her into his, should set her down at her Lodgings. To this purpose he commanded a Footman to dog her, and to bring him an answer at a place appointed. The Boy soon returned, and acquainting him that the Marshal, after he had set her down, was gone home, he drove to her Lodgings, where he passed the night. Much Wine had passed, and not caring much to force himself, he knew not whether the charm of the Pulvillio was broke, but put all off till the Morrow; and he was fast asleep when Gendarme was knocking at the door; du Mesnil, not daring to refuse him entrance, since he came from the Patroon, had scarce time to wake the Duke, and desire him to slip behind a Curtain. Gendarme, who was very diligent to take notice of any thing that might disquiet his Master, perceived, as he was making the compliment, that there were two priuts tumbled in the Bed; and impatient to tell it the old Fellow, he ran at an unusual rate, and came to de Grancey quite out of breath.  
The Marshal enquired the occasion of his haste; to tell you, answered he, that you are the greatest Bubble in the World; and whilst you sleep so peaceably here, there are fine things doing for you abroad; that all the Children which you fancy your own, have another Father, for all their fine Ears perhaps; and that in a word, you are a Cuckold, an egregious doting Cuckold. Do but rise, continued he, and you may still find the Hare in the form, or else the print of his steps so plain, that it will not be difficult to trace him. The Marshal, who knew what pleasure he took to raise his doubts, bid him take care of what he said, that his life was in danger, for he would never more forgive him: but nevertheless he called for his Leg and his , and was in such haste to be dressed, and Gendarme so concerned to make good his promise, that betwixt 'em his Truss was forgot.  
The shaking of the Coach soon made the Marshal perceive what he wanted, they must needs go back to fetch it, and in this time, the Duke de Saux was dressed and gone. Du Mesnil knew how little kindness Gendarme had for her, and therefore caused the Bed to be new made, and afterwards went fairly into the middle of it. It was a farce to see the Truss put on in the Coach; Gendarme swore he forgot it on purpose to let the Bird escape; and the Marshal said, Gendarme did it purposely for an excuse: And in fine, it was very diverting to hear their disputes, which made such a noise that drew the Rabble about the Coach: the Footmen, accustomed to these matters, dispersed the lookers-on, and the Marshal drew the Curtains to hid his Infirmity from those that knew it not.  
The Affair being accomplished with much pains, they continued their way, and arriving at du Mesnil's, Gendarme was extremely astonished to find but one print in the Bed when he had observed two. The Marshal perceived his surprise, and fearing lest he should get first to the door, run in all haste to prevent it, but his wooden Leg slipping, he fell and hurt himself. Gendarme finding that tho' he was in the right, he must bear all the blame, took that opportunity to escape, which enraged the Marshal; he swore he would have him hanged and damned; and this encouraged du Mesnil, who was in fear lest he should give more credit to him than herself.  
She gave him her hand to help him up, and when he had recovered his breath, he freely confessed what had passed, begging her pardon for his unjust suspicions. When she found it went so well, she thought it proper to give him many harsh reprimands, demanding if this was a recompense for what she did every day for his sake, forgetting nothing that might confirm her innocence, and bring him to a thorough Repentance. He gave all the signs of it that were to be imagined, but nothing pleased her so much as a Note he sent to a neighbouring Priest, desiring him to return thanks for the discovery he had made of Gendarmes wickedness.  
Whilst the Marshal was thus delighted at his good fortune in his good Mistress, the Duke de Saux thought of re-establishing his Reputation with Madam de Lionne; and what assurance soever he might have in his Constitution, he nevertheless not only refrained from seeing the Count de Tallard and Lovison, but dieted of what he thought would contribute to a vigorous health; and thinking himself then in a condition to enter the Lists, went to the Field, but found another Champion already engaged; for the Count de Fiesque was returned more amorous than ever, and tho' their proceed had given just reasons for a perpetual quarrel on both sides, Madam de Lionne and he no sooner met, but they were reconciled, neither had the Duke reason to question it, for being well acquainted in the Family, they suffered him to go up without notice, and finding no body in the Chamber, he looked through the Keyhole, and saw an Engagement that would not have surprised him had he not known of the Quarrel: Nevertheless, altho' he came for the same purpose, and had no reason to be contented that the place was already taken, he placed himself calmly upon a Stool, knowing very well that the Count de Fiesque, who was no rude player, would have soon finished the Game; and it was no sooner over but they both came into the Chamber, full of confusion at the surprise to see one there they so little expected, and whom they could scarcely have sent for upon this occasion. The Duke de Saux, thinking that silence would augment the disorder he perceived they were in, endeavoured to break it; and as there was nothing but Debauchery in his intentions, he soon recovered the accident, and found himself in a more free and easy disposition of mind than he could have been, had his heart had the least concern in the adventure. I thought you had been both my Friends, said he to 'em, and therefore imagined you would not have rejoiced without me You know that a Reconcilement is equal to a Wedding, and yet you are partaking the delights of Paradise, and make me no invitation. I was never inquisitive until to day, and now I am cured of it for all my life: how sottish a thing it is to see the Pleasures and Transports of others through a Keyhole; and I believe had I not left the College it would have cost me a mortal sin: Why do you not leave at least, Madam, says he, addressing himself to Madam de Lionne, one of your Women here? 'twould serve to fool away the time in expecting you; I give you this advice, and you have no reason to despise it, this will at least abate their curiosity, and your affairs may chance to fall into the hands of a person who will not use you so well as I.  
There will always remain a certain confusion upon the first discovery of our secrets, especially in a Woman that has the least Modesty left. The Duke might observe this truth in Madam de Lionne, she was more disordered than before, and I know not if she would have made a worse Figure had her Husband been present: her Eyes were cast down, and if she ever ventured to look up, 'twas on the Count de Fiesque, whom she seemed to excite to her defence; but he was yet in a greater confusion, so that finding he had not the sense to draw her out of this accident, This is what your folly has been the occasion of, said she to the Count, you shut the door against my will, and the Duke has no doubt seen you busying with some trifle. Excuse me, Madam, answered the Duke, it was truly no trifle which I saw, except you call that so which we esteem the greatest happiness; but blush not for it, the Count is very well worth your care, and I desire you only to acknowledge, that the pleasure is quite another thing after a little falling out.  
Whilst this was saying, Madam de Coevures came in, and drew her Mother from this disorder; for the Duke de Saux, who, tho' he had not a great passion for her, took pleasure in her conversation, went with her to the Ruel, and afforded an opportunity to these Lovers to recover themselves. Madam de Lionne, who had an ambitious heart, that is to say, whom one Lover could not suffice, was no sooner free from one inquietude than she fell into another; and tho' she had promised to assist the Duke, yet she fancied her Daughter gave too much attention to him; and she listened after every word he spoke, to find if she was not in the right.  
The Count de Fiesque observed her distraction, and quarrelled with her about it, but it was impossible for him to interrupt her design; she perceived it was even as she imagined, and she no longer doubted of her tenderness, when she found she permitted him to kiss her Hand without any violence. The Duke immediately after it went out, upon which she presumed the affair was much advanced, and that no question it was an earnest of a more acceptable Promise; she resolved if it was so, to cross these Lovers with all her power; and having got rid of the Count, sent for a Chair, pretending business, yet would not stir till the Horses were in her Daughter's Coach; when she went out, dispersing her Footmen on sleeveless errands: having thus far proceeded, she bid the Chair-men stop at the corner of the Street, commanding them to follow the Coach when it came forth. They were not long in ambuscade before they saw it, the Coach went to the Tuilleries near the King's Stables, and she was there almost as soon as her Daughter.  
She was so disguised, that she hoped no body would know her; nevertheless, mistrusting her Shape and Air might be remarkable, she counterfeited herself lame, and followed as fast as she could. The Marchioness de Coevures took two turns to lose some Persons she found there, and afterwards went by the Gate towards the Ponte Rogue, which obliged her Mother to double her pace; and as there was some distance between 'em, it was impossible for her to arrive there so soon as she desired, so that when she came to the Gate, her Daughter was already out of sight; she looked about on all sides to see if she could perceive which way she went, but all that she could discover was a Coach without a Livery, which in a moment was out of sight: she was vexed there was none ready to follow it, and resolved not to be trapped so the next time, not doubting, if her suspicions were true, that these Lovers would not be contented with this outerview.  
It was not easy to deceive her, she was too knowing in this matter, for even in this Coach were the Marchioness and the Duke; he was carrying her to Authevil, a House which the Marshal de Grancey hired for du Mesnil, and she had given him leave to make use of when he pleased. No sooner were they arrived, but he had a mind to know if he was still enchanted; and he found that two or three days of rest to a Man of his Age, was a wonderful remedy against such sort of Charms; when he had caressed her twice he was glad to entertain her with some other diversion, and he thought nothing was more pleasant than the relation of what happened to him with her Mother. The Marchioness told him there could be nothing of it, for she was too much fixed to the Count de Fiesque to make an essay of his source; but the Story not being very much to his advantage, and he assuring it with many horrid Oaths, she would rather believe it than occasion further Imprecations.  
She had nevertheless some other tokens of the truth of it, which she would have contentedly passed without, for the Duke she found was again enchanted; the Marchioness de Coevures, who was one of the prettiest Women in Paris, took it for a great affront to her, and began to be concerned; she not only showed it by her Countenance, but resented it in these terms; I was never a Glutton in this point, and if you knew what Monsieur de Coevures says of me concerning it, you would find it was not on that occasion that I speak; besides, it is often a great punishment to me to endure it, which makes him often say, that I am not my Mother's Daughter, and that certainly I was changed at Nurse. Yet altho' my coldness might have discouraged him, he never gave me such an affront as you have done. I remember that on our Wedding Night— but why should I tell you, it will make you die with shame, and yet he was a Husband, but you a Gallant. But ye Gods what a Gallant? one that has taken that Name to abuse me, and I may judge by this first interview, what I must expect from you; but it is well I have not been long deceived, there is a remedy, and I know what Course I ought to take. The Duke de Saux, who was not naturally very bashful, was nevertheless ashamed at these reprimands, and begged of Madam de Coevures to expose all her Beauties to his sight, assuring her it would be a perfect recovery to his Vigour.  
Many if they had been in her place, would have granted a request like this, but whether she was mistrustful of her hidden Beauties, or she imagined it to little purpose, she would not consent to it, so that from the first they were not very much Charmed with one another.  
Parting in this indifferency, it was some time before they had another meeting, which troubled Madam de Lionne, who was in pain to be assured of their Intrigue; what she had observed made her not question their Correspondence, but thought they were too cunning for her, and the vexation at it put her upon the design of advertising the Marquis de Coevures to look narrowly after the Conduct of his Wife. The Marquis was so mean spirited, that he resolved to call all the Family together upon this affair: Every one was invited, even to the Grandfather the Marshal, and his quality and age giving him without dispute the first place in the Council, he gave attention to all that was said, without discovering his own Sentiments. Most of 'em were for sending the Marchioness to a Nunnery, saying this was what might be expected from so unequal a Match, that if their Relation had married one of equal rank to himself, he had had no occasion to demand Justice now. Some enlarged upon it, and said, that an ill Tree seldom brings good Fruit; and when her Mother had always made profession of Gallantry, it was not to be expected, but her Daughter should resemble her. That they had Whores enough in the Family without her, and that it was fit she should not only be sent to the Nunnery, but also be deprived of ever bearing the Name of the Family.  
The good Marshal had a Colour at this Discourse, and they who remarked it, believed that it was occasioned by his Resentment of it, or through some new indisposition that had happened to him. But when they had done speaking, they soon perceived there was nothing of this in it; neither could they doubt of it, when they heard him say, In troth you make me mad to hear ye talk thus; ye that pretend to be so delicate, but who had not been here any more than myself, had our Mothers been so nice. We know what we know, but you may be certain that the finest of our Noses was borrowed from our Neighbours, and we have so much reason to praise the good Women of our Family, both in the direct and collateral Line, that I admire ye are for banishing those who resemble 'em. When I married my Grandson de Coevures to Madam de Lionne, do you imagine I did it in consideration, either because she was the Daughter of a Minister of State, or because she was rich, or for her Reputation; these were too narrow prospects for a man of my age, and experience; no, my drift was, that being so handsome, she might revive the lustre and greatness of our Family, which always drew its considerableness not from the Males, but Females. If I have been deceived, it was not my fault, my Intentions were as well meant in this, as in my marriage with Mademoiselle de Manicamp, in effect my Wife was handsome enough to make all our Fortunes, but her Brother's Reputation has been a great injury to her. I know there was a Proposition made to her, before I married her, which she did not think agreeable, being of a disposition contrary to her Brother; Since that time a thing of the same nature has happened to her, but she had rather die than not be conformable to the Family she is entered into. How has she wandered from the Footsteps of our Ancestors? for if so, I declare myself her greatest Enemy. Has she had any Commerce with the Chevalier de Lorraine? Let her be burnt: Has she had any Conversation with the Chevalier de Chastillon? Drown her: Has she had any Correspondence with the Duke of Luxemburgh? Let her be hanged: If you accuse her of this, you need not seek any other Executioner. But if her Crime has been only to seek the Pleasures of Nature, I declare myself her Protector. Let all this be kept secret amongst ourselves, that the Court know nothing of it; The shortest Follies are the best, and it will be ill husbandry to let the whole Town laugh at our Expense. The whole Company were offended at the beginning of this Discourse, but they found so much good Sense in the Conclusion, that they resolved to conform to it. There was not time to deliver their opinion of it, for a Lackey coming in to acquaint the Marshal that Lessé du Bail and two or three other famous Gamesters expected him, he took his leave, telling them they ought not by any means to descent from what he had declared.  
The Bishop of Laon when his Father was gone, remained the Precedent of the Council, and being very Politic, thinking Monsieur de Lionnes favour would do him no disservice in obtaining the Cardinal's Cap, which he has since accomplished; he told 'em, he extremely wondered at two things, first that they should proceed thus against his Niece upon a mere suspicion; and secondly should so rashly speak ill of his Family; that for the one, it ought to be made out as clear as the Sun at Noon, before they went so far; and for the other, it was very well known that the Family of Lionne was as renowned as any in Dauphiné. That the Malice of those who denied a matter so authentic sufficiently demonstrated how little Faith was to be given to 'em in other things; that Madam de Coevures was indeed too handsome to be without Admirers; but on the other side, she was too wise to make a return to their Passions. That whilst he had been at Paris, he was often enough with her, to take notice if there had been any irregularity in her Conduct, but he had never perceived her guilty of any thing to the discredit of her Family; that he would look more nicely to it now, and would be so much with her when his affairs would permit, that there should none be more capable of giving a better judgement of her than himself. The Marquis de Coevures thought he was obliged to give him thanks for the pains he would take, and making his Compliment, told him, there were few Uncles to be found so kind to take the concerns of their Relations so much to heart. But he was the only man in the Company who did not penetrate his Design. The good Prelate was fallen in Love with his Niece, and having not leisure enough to follow the whole Duty of a Lover, he resolved to make her esteem this as a great piece of Service, and to demand an immediate recompense for it; in effect, no sooner was the Assembly broke up, when he went to the Marchioness, and looking upon her in an Air that would have discovered his Intentions, had she observed it. I know not Madam, says he, if you already perceived the extreme Passion I have for you, should I have acquainted you with it the moment I was sensible of it, it would have been divulged the first time I saw you; but those kind of Declarations are only proper for Ignorants, and for my part, I always believed that before we advanced so far, the person was to be prepared by some considerable Services. If you have observed my proceed, I have omitted no opportunity, but they have always been so frivolous in Comparison of what I coveted, that hitherto I have not had the boldness to discover myself. But opportunity to day has presented, and I have appeased a whole Family incensed against you, and who talked of nothing less than confining you perpetually to a Nunnery. I knew, Madam, they were doing a great injustice to you, but it had passed irrecoverably, had not I engaged for you; this would deserve a recompense to another, but for my part it will be satisfaction enough to me, will you but only give me leave to see you, and to love you. The Marchioness de Coevures was so astonished at this Declaration, that she could scarcely believe her Ears, and the surprise of what she heard was so great, that it interrupted her as she was going to show her Resentment to his boldness, so that she fell from the passion she was raised to, and calmly demanded what could be the occasion, or what had she ever done to be so basely used? I cannot tell you, Madam, answered the Bishop, except it proceeds from some suspicions of your Husbands; he mentions no particular Circumstance, and all that I can comprehend in it, is, that some body who has no good Wishes for you, has occasioned this mischief betwixt you. But fear nothing, he depends now altogether upon the Character I shall give him of your Conduct, and I have undertaken to watch you so narrowly, that it is impossible for any thing to scape unknown to me. Hereupon he gave her an account of what was said in the Assembly, except what the good Marshal spoke in her favour, for he would have all the obligation of clearing her from this Affair attributed to himself.  
The Marchioness was overjoyed that nothing of her Intrigue was discovered, and taking courage upon it, I am very unhappy, Sir, says she, to be so unjustly accused; and tho' I cannot disown some Obligation to you in it, yet give me leave to tell you, that such proceed as yours will quickly lessen the favour: You ought to remember your own Character, and the Family we are of, if you forget my Virtue, and the Duty I own my Husband; but I find the ungenerous reason of it, the injurious Stories you have heard of me, has encouraged you to this boldness, but I should have more reason to have better thoughts of you, had you not basely concluded, that (tho' I had an inclination to Crimes of that nature,) I was of so seared a Conscience not to abhor what you propose. 'Tis not any Criminal matter I propose to you, answered the Bishop, and you do me wrong to accuse me of it. What is it that you demand of me then? Says Madam de Coevures. Only that you permit me to adore you, and to seek all occasions of rendering you service, replied the Bishop. What, 'tis a trifle then with you, says Madam de Coevures, for a Bishop to make Love to a married Woman, and for an Uncle to endeavour to seduce his Niece? Believe me, if I have any Case of Conscience to consult of, you shall never be my Casuist; in the mean time, tho' I cannot forbid you seeing of me, since it is not in my power to hinder you, yet oblige me so far as not to offer any such Discourse to me, for perhaps I shall not have discretion enough to conceal it from Monsieur de Coevures.  
These words were Thunderbolts to the Bishop, and for all his Wit he was so dashed, that he had not a word to say. A poor unfortunate Priest, that came a Moment after to solicit some small business with him, found the Effects of his anger, and all his people found him in so ill temper, that they could not imagine the reason of so great an alteration. They suffered for it as well as himself. At Table every thing was so ill dressed, that he asked if they designed to poison him; and if he durst, he would have beaten the whole World. His Passion was not nevertheless extinguished, the difficulty had rather increased it; but not daring to mention it any more to the Marchioness, discouraged by his reception, he resolved to be so diligent a spy upon her Conduct, that fear might force her to that, which he could not obtain from her Love.  
This Argus, with all his care, could not discover any thing for some time, and tho' the Duke de Saux came continually to the House, there being an intimacy imagined between him and Madam de Lionne, and he ask most commonly for her, it passed so well, that this was the man he least suspected, but it being difficult to deceive a Lover long, the Bishop after a while fancved that Madam de Lionne was only the pretence, but that the Sacrifice was designed for the Marchioness. The Duke de Saux, who had not yet found an opportunity to reconcile himself to Madem de Lionne, was seeking all occasions for it, which was the reason he so often visited her, and at the first that presented, knowing her temper and inclinations, Madam, says he, behold a Criminal, who comes to do himself Justice, and tho' I have some reason to accuse you, yet I being the first offender, am obliged to make the first Submission, to authorize my following resentment. What do you complain of, Sir, answered she, is it because you found me with Monsieur de Fiesque, how did it concern you, and after what I have seen, would you again abuse me? The Duke thinking she reproached him with his Impotency, I have nothing to say to it, Madam, answered he, and I have already acknowledged myself the most Criminal of Manking, but there is forgiveness for all Crimes, and here I am ready to repair the Injury. At these words he was making ready to perform his promise, and altho' Madam the Lionne, was not accustomed to refuse any body, she told him in a despising air, that he was mistaken, and she was not Madam de Coevures. What do you mean, Madam, answered the Duke, and why do you mention one who thinks not of us, and we have no reason to think of? Do you take me for a Fool, cried Madam the Lionne, did not I see her with you the other day? I followed you to the Tuilleries, and tho' the Footmen and Coach was disguised, it hindered not me from discovering the whole Intrigue. You saw it, Madam, demanded the Duke de Saux with a serious Countenance? Yes, Sir, answered Madam de Lionne, with my own Eyes. Since it is so, then Madam, says he very seriously, give me your hand, we have nothing to reproach one the other withal, and I have seen as well as you those things; it will be to little purpose to remention, remember not the Coach, and I'll endeavour to forget the Closet; what say you, is it not very reasonable? this was too Cavalier an Entertainment, to win any savours from the Lady, so that continuing this Discourse, they parted so Melancholy, that each imagined there was nothing after this to be demanded. The Duke de Saux returned home, and was there hardly a quarter of an Hour before he received this Note from the Marchioness de Coevures.  
A Letter from Madam de Coevures to the Duke de Saux.  
IT is not above an hour or two since I designed to inquire how you did after your paralytic fit, but when I saw you get into your Coach so overjoyed at Madam de Lionnes, I thought my Compliment would be to little purpose. Any besides myself would have wondered, that she should perform a Miracle, they had so unsuccessfully endeavoured to Compass; but I find the reason; in many things, I have not an Experience equal to hers; and perhaps she may have an interest with the Saints, that I cannot boast of; Let me know which you are beholden to, for I have all the reason in the World to believe it proceeds from a Religious Effect, when I find you pay such Devotion to Relics.  
This quarrel did not at all surprise the Duke, and the Count de Tallard being in the Country for some time, and Loiiison d' Arquien sick through too much Devotion, he finding himself in a humour not to be pleased any longer without Company, returned her this Answer.  
The Duke de Saux to Madam de Coevures.  
IF I was at Madam de Lionnes, 'twas with a design to see you, but persons of your temper are not pitiful every day, and 'tis enough for us, if, knowing that we die for you, you are but pleased at our unhappy Fates. I have been in search for you ever since my misfortune, to let you know 'tis you alone can cure me; if you will make an Experiment of it about two in the Morning, I have an infallible secret will help me to the door of your Apartment. Be satisfied you run no danger, since your Husband will not return from Versailles before to morrow Night; if you have but the least consideration for my health, you will accept the offer; remember that old mischiefs are dangerous, and if you permit mine to root itself deeper, have a care lest it becomes at last incurable.  
Madam de Coevures was not so angry, but a proposition of this nature had power to appease her, she therefore bid the Messenger tell him she expected him. The Mercury returning to the Duke's Apartment overjoyed, observed not that the Bishop de Laon was writing a Letter in the Duke's Closet, but before he came to the door, cried, good News, good News; the Duke de Saux made him Signs to hold his tongue, but this was enough for the smoky Bishop, and his suspicions were doubled when he found him to be the Duke's Agent in Love Affairs. He could make no certain Judgement of it, but suspecting it might be some appointment for night, he resolved to watch so strictly that he should be sure to know if his Niece was concerned in it. And the Duke who was very indiscreet, had often let fall some Words, which convinced him he had not so much esteem for Madam de Lionnes, as to render her such frequent Visits. After he left the Duke, he was impatient till Night came, that he might place himself in Ambuscade; and altho' there could be no greater dissatisfaction to him, than to find what he was in search of, yet his whole hopes were engaged upon the discovery of the Mystery. The hour he wished for being arrived, he played the spy round the Hostel de Lionne, and that he might be sure not to be deceived, he looked in every one's face that passed by: This was a fine Employment for a Bishop, and especially so serious a one as he seemed; but he took what care he could to avoid the Scandal, having left his Cross at home, and covered his bald Crown with a Peruque, with his Sword by his side, he seemed to be no little Cavalier.  
Such was the power of Love: but it was not in his head alone, for the good man Mr. the Lionne, notwithstanding all his business, and his age, was no freer from it than the rest. Whether it be impossible for a man to live without a Woman, or whether he thought to enrage his Wife at a Mistress, he had one who was an honest Citizen's Wife, and whilst her Husband was busy in an Employment he had given him, to draw him from home, he used to refresh himself with her, from the burdensome affairs which the Kings used to trust him withal. It happened that this Night he had just left her, and as he was returning with a Valet that used to assist him in his Amour; the Bishop, who thought every body was the Duke de Saux, approached to look in his face. The Valet taking him for a Thief, clapped a Pistol he had under his Cloak to his breast. The Bishop, whose trade it was not to be stout, taking likewise the Valet for a Rogue, desired him not to kill him, and if it was only his Purse that he wanted, he was ready to deliver it. He used to be often at M— de Lionne's, so that they both quickly knew him by his Voice, and the Valet surprised, told him he need not fear, for that was his Master de Lionne. Mr. the Lionne, who desired not to be known, was angry that the imprudence of the Valet had discovered him, but it being past redress, and knowing the Bishop by his Voice, he asked him for what Adventure he was thus disguised. The good Prelate was in despair at this rencontre, and tho' he was reported to be of a ready wit, he found himself in great confusion, he would have denied himself if he could, but Mr. de Lionne and his Servant knew his Face and Voice too well for that, in spite of the disguise, and the latter was already ask his pardon for presenting the Pistol to him, saying it was to be excused, since it was impossible for any body to know him in that disguise.  
These Excuses gave the Prelate time to recover himself, and confessing part of the Truth to Mr. de Lionne, that he was come so accoutered to see if the Duke de Saux would come there, whom he suspected had an Intrigue with the Marchioness de Coevures; he reserved the other part, which was nevertheless the true occasion of the trouble he gave himself Mr. the Lionne, who knew the weakness of Humane Nature, and who had no severe opinion of his Daughter, commended his zeal, and proffered to watch with him: So that the Valet being sent away, whom the Bishop did not think fit to be privy to this Secret. They agreed to separate in order to make the better discoveries; but their pains would have been to little purpose, had not the natural inquisitiveness of the Valet engaged him to stay also to see what all this matter meant.  
As he was looking attentively about, he perceived a Man scaling the Garden Walls, which the Sentinels could not see, they happening to be on the other side; from thence he discerned him enter a Window opened for him, which answered to the Mount, and this threw him into a profound Meditation. He thought there must be Love in the case, and not knowing how to apply it to any body except his Mistress or her Daughter, he was in dispute whether he should acquaint his Master with it, doubting if the news would be agreeable to him. Whilst he was thus reasoning upon what he was obliged to do, the Duke de Saux, who was the Man that went in, was endeavouring to get into the Marchioness de Coevures Apartment, not far off; but he found himself stopped by the arm, by Madam de Lionne, who had made an appointment with the Count de Fiesque, and imagined it to be him: Is it you, said she at the same time, my dear Count! why did you stay so long?  
The Duke de Saux, who very well knew Madem de Lionnes voice, made no reply, which very much surprised her, fearing she was in a mistake; to be satisfied, she threw her arms about his neck, and finding him bigger, and fatter than the friend she expected, she shrieked out loud enough to have waked all the House, had they not been in a dead sleep. The Duke de Saux apprehensive lest her imprudence should occasion mischief on both sides, broke the silence in these terms, which he uttered as softly as possible. What do you do, Madam, said he, have you not the judgement to perceive you are going to ruin yourself? If it was my own concern alone, I should say nothing, but escape as well as I could, but what will your Husband say, what excuses can you make, to persuade him this appointment came not from you.  
These words, and the Voice which was known to Madam de Lionne, made her reflect upon the reasonableness of what was said. What, is it you then, Monsieur le Duke, said she, what do you come here for? I won't deceive you, Madam, answered he, I did not look for you, no more than you expected me: And therefore give me leave to continue my Adventure, lest I interrupt yours, and 'tis after this fashion, people like us should live in this Age. The proposition was very honest, and reasonable, but whether she had a mind to make trial of him, or whether the time that she expected the Count being Elapsed, it was insupportable to her to pass the night alone. No, no, Sir, replied she, it shall not go as you imagine, I know it is my Daughter you would be at, but let it displease you both if it will, I shall nevertheless make use of the opportunity, since it has offered itself so kindly; in all likelihood the Charm of the Pulvillio may be broken, and you must give me proofs of it this very instant.  
After these words which were spoke in a very low Voice, lest any body should overhear, she would have led him to her Chamber; but he not able to consent to the change, Ah, Madam, said he, whilst he was dragging along almost by force, I have promised Madam de Coevures to come to her, I dare not break my word, give me but only leave to go and disengage myself, and I will return immediately upon my word, and give you all manner of satisfaction. The Lady was not so credulous to trust him; and as she had tried his strength, and found it not sufficient to be divided, she would not by any means part with him; and he on his side continuing obstinate, she proposed a medium, which was to go herself, and fetch her Daughter. He accepted the proposition, not being able to get out of her hands by any other means; but before she went, she conducted him to her Chamber, obliging him to go to bed, and promising to bring her Daughter, bidding him take care how he behaved himself, since he was to pass that night between 'em. If the Duke had been too scrupulous, such a proposition would have startled him, but he being a Courtier feared nothing of this nature; but answered, that he should expect 'em with great impatience, and that it was a long time since he had made use of any Pulvillio. The Lady would have willingly made trial at that moment if he spoke truth, but he not agreeing to it, she went to fetch her Daughter, who was very devoutly waiting for the Duke. This made her not at all surprised to hear some body walking in her Antichamber, but she was very much startled, when, instead of him, she perceived her Mother. Had not Madam de Lionne feared the losing of time, she would have asked her the occasion of her sitting up so late, and what she was waiting for; but it being very dear to her, she asked her no unprofitable questions. In fine, all the Compliment was, that she must come into her Chamber, for she had something of great consequence to communicate to her.  
Tho' the Command was positive, Madam de Coevures, afraid of losing her appointment, endeavoured to excuse herself; but her Mother desiring her again, assuring her it was for her good, she at last consented; it was not nevertheless without extraordinary fear, for she could not imagine any thing less, than the discovery of the whole affair, and 'twas certainly to give her some advice about her Conduct. These thoughts, and the unseasonable hour of the night, made her follow her Mother in great silence and apprehension into her Chamber, where she was very much surprised to find the Duke in Bed; she was inwardly very angry with him, believing that he had sacrificed her, and was going to discharge her passion, when Madam de Lionne, who found the night advanced, and was unwilling to waste the remaining part of it, told her as succinctly as was possible, how she had met with the Duke, and what they had agreed upon. This a little appeased the young Lady, and tho' she was sorry to be forced to part with a share to her Mother, of what she had all expected to herself, she liked it yet much better than to have found the Duke unfaithful. Yet she made some difficulties before she consented to the proposition; but Madam de Lionne, seeing the time consumed by 'em, threatening to ruin her if she did not obey, and the Duke Courting her on the other side, she underssed herself, half out of obedience, and half through inclination and desire. Madam de Lionne was doing the same thing on her side, and both, expecting good Fortune that Night, were only in lose Gowns, which were soon taken off, and one would have thought a reward had been promised to those who should be first undressed, such haste did they seem to make.  
Whilst this was passing within doors, the Bishop and Monsieur de Lionne were still playing the Sentinels without, tho' not with an equal concern, for tho' Mr. the Lionne was a man of Honour, and alarmed by the Infamy the Bishop had discovered to him, he suffered nothing in comparison of what was occasioned by the Jealousy of the other. All his thoughts terminated in revenge, and had he been as much a Brother of the Blade as the Church, the Duke de Saux should have died by no other hand than his. Monsieur de Lionne being separated from him, for the reason I before told you, he had leisure to entertain himself with these thoughts, which sometimes flattered him, and at other times made him despair; and whilst he was in these Meditations, Monsieur de Lionne, who was advertised by his Valet of what he had seen, interrupted him, telling him his doubts were but too well grounded, for a man went into the House. God's _____ swore the Bishop at the same time, and do you bear it so patiently, as if the affront concerned not you, as well as me. After he had given Mr. the Lionne this answer, he asked the Valet what he had seen, and he having informed him according to what I before mentioned, he again demanded of Mr. de Lionne if he would suffer an injury of that nature to go unpunished. I am of opinion it will be the best way, answered Mr. the Lionne, it must either be my Wife or my Daughter, and the least noise that I make of it ruins all our Reputations. It will be more prudent to keep the Secret amongst us three. I know the discretion of my Valet, and answer for his Fidelity. Mr. the Lionne could not in truth take better measures; but the Bishop who was fir'd at every word, Gods _____ said he, swearing again like any Car-man, 'tis what you deserve, since you can bear the Scandal so calmly; but it shall never be said that I suffer it without resentment, and as I am persuaded the matter concerns my Niece, you will not be angry I hope if I have not the like tameness; at these words he bid the Valet who had the Key of a door which was only used in his Master's Amorous Intrigues, to open it immediately, and Mr. de Lionnes honour being touched, he followed him rather out of complaisance, than inclination.  
The Valet de Chambre having observed after the Duke de Saux went over the wall what became of him, he had taken notice of the Management of the two Ladies, and knowing positively in what Chamber they were, he carried his Master and the Bishop directly thither, when the Lionne had fetched a double Key which he had to all the Apartments. The Duke and the two Ladies were so busily employed, that they heard not the door open, so that they were taken as Moss caught his Mare. Madam de Lionne threw herself at her Husband's feet, promising she would never do so again whilst she lived. The Marchioness de Coevures, who was in no less confusion, knew not what to say for herself, but getting near the Bishop, who was for ruining all, Do not ruin my Reputation, said she, appease but my Father, and hid this from my Husband, and I promise you not to be ungrateful. Mr. the Lionne was so surprised at the novelty of the Frolic, that he said not one word. He thought himself a Cuckold, but to sinned a Spark between the Mother and the Daughter, seemed so strange a thing to him, that he could not have more wondered, had the horns sprouted out immediately on his forehead. All that he could say, was, unhappy Wife, unfortunate Daughter, to which they returned no answer.  
The Bishop's anger was in the mean time very much abated by those golden promises, and eager in pursuit of 'em. I think, says he coldly to Mr. de Lionne, you had a great deal of reason when you advised us not to dive further into our insamy. The less noise the better in these matters, as you say, and if you will take my opinion let us proceed no farther, it is sufficient that we know what we do, without acquainting the Town with it. This advice being conformable to Mr. de Lionne's conceptions, was followed, so that the Duke had liberty to withdraw, and as brave as he was, he was not a little glad to see himself safe out of their hands. After this the Bishop, under a pretence of correcting his Niece, led her to her Chamber, where demanding her promise, she durst not refuse him, for fear he should ruin her with her Husband, and the whole Family. And having obtained what he desired, knowing she did it only out of fear, imagined she would quickly return to her first Affections; and to prevent it, he managed the affairs after that method with her Husband, that she was sent into the Country to a Seat of his, not far from the Bishops. This produced a good effect, for he resided more constantly than usual in his Diocese. This little Commerce lasted for a year or two, when affairs of State calling him out of the Kingdom, Ambition took the place of Love, and finished an Incest, the Marchioness would never have consented to, but in defence of her Reputation.  
As for Madam de Lionne, her Husband not enduring the sight of her, confined her to a Religious house, which made the Public censure, tho' no one doubted but it was for some Love Intrigue; For the Lady had the Reputation of being frail, in which the World was not deceived; yet every one desiring to be assured of the report, the Duke de Saux took care to let them know it. He published himself his own Adventure, choosing rather to be taxed with indiscretion, than be deprived of the pleasure of talking. The noise of it being spread about Paris, the Adventure was found so new, that it was the subject of all Conversation for some time, which gave occasion to one of the Court to make a Lampoon upon it.  
And thus ends the Intrigue of the Duke de Saux, with Madam de Lionne and her Daughter. The first remaining in Religion whilst her Husband lived, is become so old, that she is forced to be contented with the Count de Fiesque, who out of necessity is obliged to pass by many things which would not be agreeable to a more Critical Lover. As for the Daughter whether he has had some secret advice of her Intrigue, or whether she be naturally unconstant, she seems not to be much concerned at it, passing most of her time in the Country.   

THE HISTORY OF THE MARESCHALLESS DE LA FERTE.  
LONDON, Printed for B. R. and are to be sold by R. Baldwin in the Old Bailey. 1690.   

THE HISTORY OF THE Mareschalless de la Ferté.  
WHat I have told you of Madam de Lionne, shows a great condescension in one who had aspired to Charm even the King; yet it is nothing in Comparison of what I am going to relate concerning the Mareschalless de la Ferté, who is my other Heroess; but one so Illustrious, that it would be difficult to find her fellow, should you seek throughout Paris, which is nevertheless a Marvellous place for such kind of Discoveries. However, she was no sooner thrown from the aspiring hopes I have before mentioned, but she began to endeavour to comfort herself: And it seemed not difficult, since he who made her forget so Charming an Idea, was not one of extraordinary merit. She was of a good Family, and the Marshal proved himself more courageous when he married her, than he had before done by all the Warlike enterprises he had ever attempted. For she must either have been changed at nurse, or resemble the rest of her Relations who were so inclined: a fair Example whereof was to be seen in her Sister the Countess d'Olonne, whom Bussy has endeavoured to render famous to his Abilities, tho' he has very much failed in it. The Copy falling so short of the Original. This Lady, tho' of an indifferent Beauty, and far beneath her Sisters, had nevertheless so good an Opinion of herself, that she thought it her right to Charm all the World. Her Husband the most brutal Man that ever was, not doubting but he had run a great risque in marrying her, made her a Soldierly Compliment the day after the Wedding, by Heaven, Madam, said he, now you are my Wife, and you do esteem it I am confident no little fortune for you, but let me advise you in good time, that if you intent to resemble your Sister, and some other of your Relations of the same value, you will find it your ruin. The Lady who had taken his brutality during the Night for an excess of Love, was undeceived at these Words, and as he passed in the esteem of the World, for one that would not suffer any raillery, she for some time consigned herself, tho' not without offering great violence to her temper and inclinations.  
The Employments he had in the war, occasioning his absence a great part of the year, afforded her many opportunities to deceive him. But he had taken such care by placing those near her who were carefully to observe her, that it was impossible for her to make one false step without his knowledge. At his departure, he charged her not to see the Countess d'Olonne, fearing such ill Company, together with her own constitution, of which he was now particularly acquainted, might assist to corrupt her. The Countess who knew of this Countermand, was concerned to death at it, pretending that it injured her Reputation in the Opinion of the World, more than her own Conduct. And as Revenge is commonly the darling sin of Women; she could not rest till she had placed him in the same rank with her own Husband, that is, till she had contrived a pair of Horns for him. Having discovered her intentions in this to the Marquis of  who loved her, she desired him to render her that service, in hopes, that being both handsome and witty, it would not be difficult for him to supplant a Jealous Coxcomb, who could never have pleased her Sister any other way than by making her Fortune.  
De  in this, was like the Duke de Saux, he had not been so nice to have scrupled the Incest, had the Lady pleased him; but imagining the proposition was made to him only to get rid of him, and give a better opportunity to the Duke de Candalle, of whom he began to be jealous, he received it so ill, that the Countess soon perceived, she must address herself to another, if she intended to prosper, in her design. To rely upon one she knew not in so critical an Affair, and was not assured of, was to run a great danger, and occasion Discourses which might not have been very agreeable; and as she had not then abandoned herself to such an infinite number as she has since done, she was very much troubled on whom to make choice; and in sine, after she had very much thought of it, she fixed upon her own Husband, in whom she fancied, she had heretofore observed some kind looks towards her Sister, by which she concluded her not indifferent to him; and besides she thought it not ill Policy to amuse him with some engagement, that he might not pry so narrowly after her affairs. She was not at all deceived in his inclinations, he would have willingly changed her for the Mareschalless, tho' the gains had been but little by the bargain. But as he was neither witty nor handsome enough for the Conquest, 'twas in vain she encouraged him to it, for he scarcely attempted it, tho' the Marshal who had forbid her the sight of his Wife, had not laid the same injunction upon the Husband, which afforded him an opportunity of seeing her continually. The Countess (who knew what her Husband did, by the means of , who had found the secret to be as well received by him as by his Wife) finding how little the affair was advanced, saw she was forced once more to change the battery, and after she had contemplated upon several ways and designs, she at last had the good Fortune to fall upon one which she concluded would answer the intent. She had observed whilst she visited her Sister, that there was a Valet de Chambre, who belonged to her, perfectly well made, and who was not insensible of it, so that believing if she could inspire him with a design to make love to his Mistress, to which his Age, and the opportunity would soon make him condescend, it might prove a successful Expedient to signalise her revenge.  
Ruminating upon this Affair, one morning she sent for the Valet de Chambre, and was very much pleased with his Wit, which was a necessary instrument in the forwarding this design. But what delighted her more, was, that the Boy, born of an honest Family, and forced by necessity to this Employment, would give her no account of his Birth; upon which she grounded a cunning Stratagem, that served her not a little upon this occasion. For she insinuated into her Sister, by the means of the Marquis de , that he was certainly some person of Quality, who being very much in love with her, had sor that reason condescended to this disguise. The Mareschalless, who had not yet perhaps taken notice of his good Mien, looked upon him after this with more attention; and finding him perfectly handsome, she easily believing what she desired, soon received this Fable for truth. To be more assured of it, she often asked him about his Country and Birth, but the same reasons which obliged him to conceal 'em from Madam d'Olonne continuing still, he was as reserved to her, and she explained his silence to his advantage.  
The Marquis de , who visited her for no other reason but to discover her mind, found her very reserved upon that point, for she had considered she was obliged to put him off, should she seem to be persuaded that he was a man of Quality; So she turned it into raillery, but she had to deal with a cunning Normand, who saw through the Veil notwithstanding all her Artisice, and returned to tell the Countess she had knocked the nail on the head. This discovery made the Countess send for the Boy a second time, acquainting him, that she had perceived her Sister did not hate him, but bid him for his Life's sake, take such care of his Conduct, that no body might observe it; telling him, that she did not desire him to desist, since (if his Mistress' temper inclined her to Love) she might as well bestow the favour upon him, as on another, whereby the Intrigue might make a greater noise in the World. That he should be sure to carry himself with all respect to her, and above all things take care not to undeceive her Sister, in the opinion she had conceived of his being of a much better condition than he appeared.  
Tho' the Boy was astonished at the beginning of this Discourse, he grew more assured at the end, and the Questions the Mareschalless often asked him, making him presume what he heard was true, he gave himself over to thoughts of Vanity, which were not inexcusable in him. What they had told him seemed no little happiness to him. For not considering the Quality of his Mistress, she was extremely Charming, tho' indifferently handsome; so that there were a thousand finer Women, who yet were nothing so agreeable. To make himself more amiable, he dressed himself as clean and decently as he could; which together with the diligence he showed towards her, made the Mare's halls soon believe that all she thought of him was true. In sine, the opportunity he had to see her dress and undress herself, in which she more willingly employed him than others, made him fall so deeply in love with her, that it was easy to perceive, that Love is not always the Effect of Destiny.  
The Mareschalless was sensible those assiduous Services he rendered her, proceeded from a more noble cause than that which generally influences Servants. And as she confirmed herself more every day in the Opinion she had conceived that he was not of an obscure Birth, she was not ungrateful to the secret testimonies he gave her of his Passion. But yet that she might have nothing to reproach herself withal, forced him almost to tell her that he was a man of Quality; so that he seeing there was no other Obstacle but this to his good Fortune, assumed the name of a good Family in his Country, which the Mareschalless, since she so much desired it, easily believed. He was not at all deceived in the thoughts he had, that this would advance his Affairs. The Lady who thought it no disgrace to love so handsome a Youth, made such returns to his Passion, that it was difficult to determine on which part were the most violent inclinations, nevertheless for want of Confidence, he made her languish yet two Months in expectation of what she most desired; when that she might no longer be tortured with desire, she resolved to make him such advances, that it should be impossible for him to doubt any longer of the Joys he was invited to.  
She had observed that he had a passionate Love for Hair, and desirous to raise his passion to the highest pitch, she had often suffered him to comb her head, tho' much to her cost, he being not very dextrous at it; the fire she perceived sparkling in his Eyes, made her not complain of the inconvenience she endured by it, thinking that this would still encourage him. One morning when she was at her Toillette, she sent for him, pretending she had occasion for him to write some Letters. When he came, she bid her Servants retire, since she had some secret matter to dictate to him; but presenting the Combs to him instead of a Pen, and saying many obliging things, he was pleased, and became as red as fire. This had been enough for one that had known the World, but he, who was afraid of being guilty of any disrespect that might occasion his discharge, had still continued so dull not to have profited by the opportunity, had not the Lady, who kindly interpreted his proceed, forced him into her lap, where she made him so many advances, that he could no longer be in doubt of his good Fortune. At these signs he took Courage, and the Bed being not yet made, the half hour he remained with her, was so well employed, that she conceived a great esteem of his merit. She wished that she might have yet enjoyed an hour or two's entertainment with him, but being obliged to some measures, lest her Servants might suspect her, she made him sold up some sheets of paper as if they had been Letters, and recovering herself from the disorders which are inevitable in these Rencounters, she called for a Candle to seal the Letters.  
This Intrigue was not suspected by any one, and if the Resentment which the Countess d'Olonne had conceived against the Marshal, would have given her leave to have been less mischievous, it might have long remained undiscovered. But her design being to torment him, she had so narrowly observed 'em, that she questioned not the success of her contrivances. She was every day confirmed in this opinion by the different advice she had from the Spies she had engaged to that purpose, and believing it now as an Article of Faith, she no sooner understood that the Marshal was to return from the Army, when she made use of an unknown hand to acquaint him with this disagreeable news. He received the Letter upon his departure, and finding no name to it, and the Character unknown to him, he at first imagined it for a Jest put upon him. Nevertheless being of a jealous nature, he resolved to benefit by the Advice, and to observe both their Conducts so exactly, that it should be impossible for any thing to pass undiscerned.  
With these thoughts he arrived at Paris, and dissimulation being necessary, he used his Wife with so much tenderness, that it was impossible to divine his intentions, thinking him so far from suspicion, shs used no constraint to her Favourite, but treated him with the same freedom, as in the Mareschals absence.  
The poor Cuckold soon perceived the Intrigue, and was more politic than could be imagined, for tho' he was brutality itself, as I have before said, he took the readiest course to secure his revenge by showing no mistrust of it, which so far deceived his Wife, that there often passed those things before him, which made him not question his being of the Brotherhood. His resentment was not the less for being concealed, on the contrary, it disturbed his quiet both Night and Day; which afforded no little joy to the Countess, d'Olonne, who was so clear sighted to discern through all his false disguises, he suffered all the torture she could wish him. For she not only knew that he retained people to watch the Mareschalless, but had also bargained with 'em to assassinate the Valet.  
This was indeed his first design, but reflecting that such kind of people, subject to many accidents, might one day accuse him, broke it off to follow juster measures. The Countess d'Olonne who discovered every day more of his discontent and inqusetude, could not forbear triumphing at it, which shows that a Woman may be at the same time engaged in two violent Passions, for both the desire of revenge, and the care of making Love, were to be perceived in her of an equal degree.  
The Marquis of , was still her Gallant, but being forced to share his good Fortune amongst many of all forts of Conditions, he grew concerned at it; and to revenge himself, acquainted the Mareschalless with the trick her Sister had played her. It is easy to imagine, what anger and trouble was enkindled at this news, and you may judge of it by her resolutions: for tho' her passion for her Favourite was not indifferent, as well as her inclinations to debauchery, being more concerned for her Life, she broke off all Commerce with him, and would have him be gone out of the House. Several hints had preceded so surprising a Declaration, that he might esteem the thing less grievous. And she also told him of the notice she had received, to show him that nothing but necessity could oblige her to it; but whether he took all this for pretence, or whether his Destiny drew him to the Precipice from which he soon after fell, he desired eight days time to resolve in; which she not being able to refuse, he had in that time discovered he was to be turned away, which coming to the Marshal's Ears, he received him from his Wife's, into his own Service, lest his retreat should free him from the revenge he was meditating against him.  
The hopes that the Valet had that his presence might revive those Flames that had been so agreeable to him, made him accept the offer, without acquainting the Mareschalless; when she knew of it, she was ready to die with grief, for she thought, when he was gone, she should soon forget what was passed, and that her Husband not knowing the depth of the Intrigue, would by degrees be freed from the jealousy he had conceived. The Marshal, to assure his revenge looked kinder upon this new Comer than on his ancient Servants, and employing him before the others, incensibly drew him to that Precipice that was his destruction; For taking a Journey not long after this, towards his Government of Lorain, he by the way Assassinated him with his own hand, that no one might know what was become of him, it happened after this manner. He pretended to have made a small Love Intrigue, and went thither two or three times, accompanied only with this Valet, which had spread such a Jealousy amongst the rest of the Servants, that they thought he alone had now the benefit of his Masters Ear. But as he was travelling one day, he bid him alight to mend something about his Stirrup, and siring a Pistol at his head, the Fellow dropped down dead upon the place. When he had performed this noble Action, he went to Nancy, where counterfeiting a trouble to know what was become of his Servant, whom he pretended to have sent on some business, the Fate of the poor Wretch was at length discovered to him by some wand'ring Parties. The Garrison of Luxenburgh, having at this time sent Parties abroad, this Murder was attributed to them, and the Marshal seemed to be so incensed at it, that he commanded a Village in that Duchy to be burnt, tho' it was then under Contribution.  
As there was not any person who knew any reason he had to be displeased with this Servant, so they could not lay this ill Action to his Charge; and even his Wife believed that the reports concerning his Death were true; she had almost forgot him since his departure, so that she was not very much afflicted to be thus rid of him. Yet her joy for it lasted not long, the Marquis de , who was as I have said, a cunning Normand, having perfectly informed himself of all the Circumstances in this murder, found out the truth, and told Madam d'Olonne, with whom he was reconciled, that her Sister was in no little danger, and they should do well to advertise her of it. When Madam d'Olonne had reflected upon the thing, she made no doubt but he was in the right, charging him to inform her of it immediately; he went and found her dressed, for imagining she had nothing now to fear, she thought of nothing but engaging a fresh Lover.  
The Marquis, fraught with this ill news, had set his face in the form he thought most suitable to this melancholy tale, which the Mareschalless observing, told him with a gay air, now indeed she found he was in Love, for it perfectly appeared in his face. That may be, Madam, replied , and who can defend themselves from it; but let me assure you that what appears there now, proceeds not from that cause, but is rather an effect of Friendship, for altho' it is not very Courtly for me to tell you I am not in Love with you, yet nevertheless upon my Word, I am not less disquieted for what concerns you. Hereupon he told her what had passed in the Army; which the Mareschalless contradicting, buoy up by her thoughts that things were in a better srame, he quickly so undeceived her, that she was thrown into a very uneasy concern, had she known that all this mischief proceeded from her Sister, she would never have forgiven her, but far from the thoughts of it, she told  that she knew not what to do in this extremity, desiring his advice, whom she imagined, since he had some interest in the Family, would be glad to oblige her.  
'Twas easier to make these Compliments upon this occasion, than to give sound advice, yet Beuron, to show himself a Man of Parts, proposed several things to her, and she fixed upon one which was to be of so reserved a Conduct in her Husband's absence, that what opinion soever he had of her, he could not but believe she had now a design to change her course of life; this obliged her to disperse a company of young people drawn thither and increased by a gay freedom which cost her much pains to be rid off. Some few of the lest dangerous only continued, and amongst 'em the Count d'Olonne, who encouraged by his Wife, as I have said before, was grown so much in love, that he rested neither day nor night.  
The private Conversations that the Marquis de  had with her, discovering some Beauties to him, which he had not observed whilst he was in love with her Sister; he began now to see her rather out of Inclination than necessity, and as his experience in the World had taught him that so much time was lost, as was spent with a Lady without acquainting her with his Sentiments. Madam, says he one day, I have hitherto endeavoured to render you service without hopes of a return, and the reason of it was, that not having the honour to see you often, I had only a slight knowledge of your merit, but since I have had the happiness to converse with you frequently, it had given me an opportunity to discern some Excellencies, that are rarely to be met withal, and I must confess to you, I should be guilty of a falsity, should I say I did not love you: I know, Madam, you will tell me that I love Madam d'Olonne, that is true, or to speak more properly, was true heretofore, but the time is now passed, neither am I to be branded with inconstancy; she has given me reason enough to disengage myself by her unfaithfulness, not to mention how lawful an Excuse, a person like you is, for any alteration of Passion.  
This Compliment was not displeasing to the Lady, tho' the maker of it had but some few days before, given her advice very contrary to it. For besides the pleasure a Woman always takes to hear you are in love with her, she had a secret envy to her Sister, who had mean thoughts of her beauty; so that she could not more convince her, how much she was mistaken in her opinion, than by robbing her of one who had long loved her, and served her as a second Husband.  
These Reasons, with some others which I shall not mention, made her return as soft an answer to  as he could wish, for, without so much as seeming not to believe what he said, she only mentioned the difficulty he would have to forget her Sister, and the fear she stood in of her Husband. To one part he answered her, that the Marshal would be less jealous of him than any, since, believing him (with the rest of the World) so extremely enamoured with Madam d'Olonne, if the report of it should come to his Ears, he would be the last that could believe it; and for the other, she must take him either for a Man of a very low Spirit, or a blind dotard, that after so remarkable a Conduct as the Countess', his Passion should continue for her; that he was by Nature Constant, but not insensible; that to confess the truth, 'twas indignation began the disengagement, but the Passion he had for her that perfected it; that truly her features were not so regular as her Sisters, but the least of her Charms and good Qualities gave her much the advantage of her.  
This was a great deal to be believed; for the Countess was without dispute one of the finest Women in France. But  accompanying his Discourse with some Actions which proved he was truly concerned, it was sufficient to persuade the Lady, who, as I have already said, had a good opinion of herself, that he was very much in love, so that not wanting desire, and he seeming to her handsome enough to take the Valet de Chambre's place, she made no other pretences to show she doubted of his Discourse: But on the contrary, told him what obligations she had to him for his good advice, that if she should happen to condescend too easily, he might attribute it to her acknowledgement. The Marquis de , who knew how to live, very well understood the meaning of this, and not suffering the Discourse to range any farther, with fury arrived at the greatest Bliss.  
The Lady found him a good actor in the Comedy they had been playing together, which his Barbary shape and lose air, could not make her believe. But his Hair which was black, suppl'yed the defects, and the Lady appeared to him so engageing, that he could not but perform something extraordinary for her service. She asked him which (meaning she or her Sister,) afforded him the most ravishing transports, and and the Intrigue being so public, that every body knew of it, he thought it would be disobliging to deny it, and laying aside his discretion, freely confessed, herself without Comparison: She seemed not to believe him, pretending his Raptures did not appear to her violent enough, but this was only to give him the opportunity to begin again; which he perceiving, acquitted himself so well of his Duty, that she was forced to confess that if he did not love her, his treatment to her had very much the appearances of it.  
This interview being passed in this manner, we may easily imagine they parted good Friends, and with an intention to see each other at the first opportunity; in fine, they had several Meetings without the least suspicion of harm, so unalterably fixed to her Sister was he generally imagined, but yet the Count d'Olonne was not deceived, which was a wonder, since he was reputed no great Conjurer. This poor Cuckold not to be the only one without a Mistress, had endeavoured to gain the Mareschalless' favour, and as the Jealous have Eyes that see through all things. he, who did not so much as mistrust his Wife's deportment, was so assured of the falseness of his Mistress, that he was resolved to quarrel with  about it. Who could have believed him of such dangerous Resolutions, who used to entertain as a maxim, that he who drew his Sword, should perish by the Sword? neither would he ever engage in the perilous trade of War; and tho' his Father had bought him a considerable Employment, he being obliged by it on some occasions to get on Horseback for the King's Service, he soon thought fit to part with it. Neither was his Rival much unlike him in his temper, for which reason he had procured an Employment, that was not more dangerous in War than peace, each being of the best Families in France, which had heretofore produced considerable Hero's.  
D'Olonne therefore knowing that he had to do with one that was not more mischievous than himself, was the more willing to quarrel with him, and in so furious a manner, that nothing less than cutting of throats was expected, in effect there was enough passed between 'em, to have occasioned unpardonable feuds in others; but the noise of their quarrel being spread all over Paris, their Friends endeavoured to reconcile 'em, but could never succeed; they still grew the more violent, which the peacemakers perceiving, left them at liberty, not apprehending any great danger was likely to ensue. Neither were they deceived, for when they found the Bridle was on their necks, they began to think they were in the wrong, not to take their Friend's advice, which made it not difficult for Madam d'Olonne, who was afraid of losing , to Counsel her Husband not to venture himself so rashly; so that without entering into particulars, she made 'em promise to be Friends. To this purpose, she said, she would treat 'em both with a Supper in her Apartment, and d'Olonne consented to it, hoping in her presence he might cast some reflections upon , whom he thought was too assiduous with her, and he must have been stark blind not to perceive there was a great intimacy betwixt 'em.  
Those who knew of their quarrel, imagined she was the occasion of it, but when they found her the Marshal of France, that is the reconciler, they knew not what to think.  being at the Rendezvous, d'Olonne told his Wife the whole truth of the Quarrel, pretending he could not see him attempt the dishonour of his Sister and not resent it; this I'll assure you was no swall Stratagem for him, who was reported to be guilty of but few in his own affairs; but yet it availed nothing with her, for she imagined, as it was true, that he was in Love himself with her Sister, and that Jealousy only had the power to draw him to this violence. This answered not the intent of the Husband, who would have had her quarrelled with  for his infidelity, and for that reason had consented to the accommodation; she was as jealous as another, but she believed her Husband had taken a false alarm; and what confirmed her in this Opinion was, that she had herself commanded  to see her Sister privately, which she thought the occasion of all this disorder.  
This happened whilst the King was young, and but little of his adroitness either in War or Love had yet appeared; but as he had the inclinations of a great Prince, of all the Women about Court these two Sisters were the least in his esteem, and he could not forbear to say one day, speaking of the Countess d'Olonne, that she was a shame to her Sex, and that her Sister was going the way to be little better. In effect finding her Husband more tractable at his return that she could hope, she stopped not at the Marquis de , but associated with him many Comrades of all sorts. The Church, the Law, and the Sword, was equally well received by her, and not contented with these three States, she made a Favourite of a fourth. Those who were concerned in the Revenue pleased her extremely, and having a great inclination for Play, many believed her Interest engaged her to it.  
The Marquis de  believing himself handsome enough to be happy, was not contented with the leave of so many; and Madam d'Olonne being not more faithful to him, he not only resolved to see neither of 'em, but also to ruin their Reputations in the World. As he durst not brag publicly to have lain with two Sisters, he gave ' cm to understand he had enjoyed that happiness with one, and that it was only his own fault that he had not arrived to it with the other. Those who knew 'em both, had no hardship to believe it, but many believing it was malice that occasioned his railing, the injury he thought to do their Reputations, excited only in them a curiosity to see such remarkable Ladies.  
It was no wonder that the Count d'Olonne should be so accustomed to his Wife's receiving Visits, since his House had never since his marriage been free from people of all conditions. But that the Marshal de la Ferté should suffer it, was not to be comprehended; especially when he had made her so Cavalier a Compliment the day after his Wedding, and upon a bare suspicion had himself assassinated his Valet de Chambre. 'Tis strange that after these actions he should ever pardon her, but it was for a Reason not generally known, and which I am going to relate. The Marshal, as brutal as he was, fell sometimes in Love, and the Marquis de , whose Intrigue then continued, had, to put him in good Humour at his return from Normandy, taken as pretty a Girl as any in Paris, out of a public House, and placed her here, that she might punctually perform what he desired. The Marshal was no sooner returned, but he began to be taken with her, she was so handsome, and of so good a shape, that it was not strange he should fall into her Nets. He looked very much upon her, and believing her as virtuous as she affected to appear, it was not long before he made her an offer of his Heart. She at first refused it, and his passion was so enslamed by the denial, that he openly Courted her. his Wife to push on the design, pretended to be offended at it, but he desisted not for this, neither cared she much, for what she did, was only to make him believe he was not indifferent to her.  
When the Vestal had performed all the little tricks she thought necessary to force him into the better opinion of her Person, she yielded to his desires; and tho' the Marshal's fortune in it was not extraordinary, he was nevertheless so charmed with it, that he could no longer live without her. She performed her duty towards him very well, by following the orders were given her: And she took great care to entertain him with the Virtue of the Mareschalless, under the pretext that having a Wife so commendable in all things, the Passion he had for her would not doubt be quickly expired. It was not the Mareschalless or Beuvron's design that she should proceed as far, for they had above all things, recommended to her to be prudent; but they found they were mistaken, when they relied upon such a one as she was, and were afraid jest, instead of the Service they thought to reap by it, (she having gone beyond their Commands) their affairs might be rendered worse, by discoveting the secret, to prevent the worst, he caused her one day to be taken away by stealth, and carried her to Roven, from whence he sent her to America.  
The Marshal made a great noise about it, and attributed it to his Wife's Jealousy, which she did not at all deny. This occasioned a breach for some time, but the Marshal's love fit being over, he was reconciled to her, and the Friendship he showed her, was so much the more sincere, as he believed a Woman capable of so much jealousy, could by no means be unfaithful to him. By this means she regained his Confidence in her, which made the Town, not so easy to be abused as the Marshal, conclude that it is in a Woman's power to tame the most savage Beast. In fine, he suffered her not only to see all sorts of Company under the pretence of Play, which she introduced at home; but also furnished her with all the money he could procure, whilst his Creditors at Paris were clamouring after him for the money he owed 'em.  
At this permission to see Company her heart was overjoyed. All the youth of the Court passed through her hands, whilst the Countess d'Olonne, old, and despised, was forced to retrench herself to Feruaques, who had no other good qualities but that of being rich, and of the same name with one who had been a Marshal of France. He was of a good Family on his Mother's side, but very mean on his Fathers; so that she used him so scurvily, as if the refuse of the whole World had been too good for him; and seeming to be ashamed of the Amour, she who had never taken any measures in debauchery, made it be publicly reported that she saw him for no other reason, but to endeavour to marry him to her Niece, Mademoiselle de la Ferté, who was not very rich, and would by this means have her necessity supplied, and to blind the people more, she made him buy the Government of the Province du Main, declaring it was for no other reason than that her Niece might have a Husband of some rank. But being quickly tired with these Contrivances, they took lodgings together, and his Relations were afraid, lest he should be guilty of the Folly to marry her, in case her Husband should die. Madam de Bonelle, his Mother, was most alarmed at it, protesting, that she should never be at quiet if this should happen. This was told again to Madam d'Olonne, who not considering Feruaques' innocence, let her resentment fall upon him. She asked him if he was the occasion of these false reports, and if he was vain enough to believe that she would marry him, should she be a Widow. Feruaques was concerned at this slight, and returning an answer which did not please her, she took the Tongues and pinched him by the face; he paid her so much respect, that he only asked her what she was doing, and whether she had well considered of it? So Sottish a question deserved a fresh punishment, so that believing him a greater Fool than before, she continued to use him so ill, that he was much disfigured, and durst not stir out for eight days.  
Madam de Bonnelle being acquainted (by what means I know not) with this Adventure, was ready to run mad; and had she brought the Estate, she would have certainly given it all to her other Son Bullion. But nevertheless she thought it necessary to remind Feruaques of his Honour, and having not seem him since he lodged with her, she sent her Woman to speak with him. Madam d'Olonne was by chance going forth as she came in, and Madam de Bonelle bidding her Servant take no notice of her, in case she should meet her, she fairly passed on without making any obeisance. The Countess d'Olonne knew her, and not questioning but what she did was by Command; 'tis thus says she aloud, that ill bred people instruct their Servants, and if I did myself Justice, I should have you corrected for it. The Woman heard plainly what she said, and being not assured but she might be as good as her Word, she was sorry she had so punctually executed her Mistress' command. But the Lady going on after these Words, she continued her way also, and acquitted herself of her Message. She found Feruaques with his head bound his face black and blue, and one of his Eyes almost put out; and being an ancient Servant, who used to speak freely to him, are you not ashamed? says she, and can you think of the condition you are in, without blushing? He would have dissembled the occasion, but when the Woman said the whole story was sufficiently known, he was very much confused at it, but yet he would not consent to what she desired, which was to leave Madam d'Olonne, and oblige his Mother who was dying with grief at it.  
'Twas not ill Fortune to an Elderly Lady, as the Countess was, to have the enjoyment of a Lover young and rich, but yet she fell far short of her Sister, who after she had tasted of all the Court, and even her Brother in Law, was so lucky to engage a young Prince of great Merit, the Duke of Longueville, Nephew to the Prince of Condée. He was not yet twenty, but being very handsome, and of a shape that promised great pleasures; there was no Woman about Court, who had not made some attempt upon his Heart. The Mareschalless, who if I may say so, was continually beating up Volunteers for Love, questioning her Reputation, and therefore doubtful of her happiness, was secretly sighing to see so noble a Conquest scape her. De Fiesque was her Friend, tho' not of that kind that had aspired to enjoy her, so that she imagined she might freely open her heart to him, and not occasion Jealousy. 'Tis a strange thing, said she, that I hear such Commendations of the Duke of Longueville, and that I have no acquaintance with him. He visits every body but me, and some Women are much happier than others; I know a thousand that he goes to see, who without vanity, are no better than myself, and to tell you the truth, my dear Count, it torments me to see him in their Company, either at the Thuilleries, or other public divertisements, whilst I have only the civility of a Hat. de Fiesque, who was complaisance itself, told her she had reason and aught to be much concerned at it, and when he had told her several things in advantage of her Beauty, and Wit, to persuade her she had a right to pretend to this Conquest. What would you have me say, continued he, sometimes your conduct is irregular, and if I may speak sincerely, every one is not of your humour. The Duke receives me as his Friend, and as one of his most intimate, so that he has been so free as to discover his Heart to me, and was I not afraid that it would be disagreeable to you, I would tell you what he says of you. At these words the Mareschalless blushed, but being desirous that this Intrigue should be driven to a happy conclusion; she would bear with some ungrateful truths, in hopes they might be useful to her. She therefore conjured him to conceal nothing from her, saying, she would be so far from taking it ill, that she was angry with him for not discovering it to her sooner, and that that reserve was an Argument he was not so good a Friend as she had always esteemed him, but if he did not instantly repair the Fault, she would never forgive him.  
De Fiesque finding by her concern, that it would oblige her to speak freely, told her that the Duke thought it not well that she received so much Company: That he had several times confessed to him, that he found her handsome, neither could she be more agreeable in his Eye, but so great a resort to her was intolerable; neither could he believe she loved the Count d'Olonne as was reported, without extremely lessening the esteem he had for her; saying amongst other things, that to love so ridiculous a Man as the Count, must be a Sign of perfect debauchery. That if she had any design upon the Duke, she must begin it with the reformation of her Conduct. That to do her service, he would be sure to let him know it was for his sake, so that the ill Impressions he had of her wearing off by degrees, his Esteem for her would increase, which would certainly produce all she could wish or hope.  
The Duke had taken such possession of her heart, that she could not refuse the offer. She thanked the Fiesque for his good advice, and, not endeavouring to find how much of what he said was Compliment, she seemed persuaded of the truth, and was only uneasy to know, if in case she should refuse all Company, it would give a satisfaction to his Friend. The Count told her she had no reason to doubt of it, and that he for his part would take care to persuade him, that a Woman who was capable of doing, without an acquaintance, so much for his sake, would perform any thing when he should return an acknowledgement.  
'Twas thus that the Mareschalless, by the necessities of her temper, overturned the Laws of Nature; for, not considering that 'twas the Woman's part to expect the Courtship from the Man, it is evident, that she first made Love to the Duke of Longueville. The Count de Fiesque, who believed she would find it very difficult to discharge so many favourites for the sake and enjoyment of one, mentioned nothing at first, of this Conversation to the Duke; but when he found she began in earnest to effect her Promise, and had parted with the Count d'Olonne, the Marquis Deffiat, and many more too tedious to name; he thought himself obliged to perform his promise. The Duke de Longueville, when he had known what passed, was glad she had taken this Course, for it would have otherwise been impossible for him to love her; that now since all obstacles were removed, he consented to visit her, desiring him to acquaint her he would come to see her in the Afternoon, and that he should be a witness of their first Conversation. The Count did what he could to excuse himself, telling him that a third person made but an ill figure at such interviews, but the Duke desiring it for several reasons; first, because he would have one who was a Friend to both present, to witness upon what conditions they loved; and in the second place, not being in a condition to perform the promises he might make, he should be sure of an Excuse to defer the Payment to a more favourable opportunity.  
In sine, too much health had occasioned his sickness, for frequenting too often some brisk Ladies about Court, he was forced to retire from theirs, to put himself into the Surgeons hands. De Fiesque seeing he would have it so, was obliged to condescend, and having acquainted the Lady of the visit, she dressed herself extraordinary fine to receive him. But the Duke on the contrary, was in a course Suit of grey Cloth, tho' he did not appear the less Charming to the Lady for his negligence. So that eager to content her desires, she was sorry he had brought the Count de Fiesque with him, fearing by it lest his expectations were not so passionate as hers. The Duke after the first Compliments, told her that having heard from his Friend how much he was obliged to her, he came not only to return her thanks, but to Vow an eternal Friendship for her. That it should be her fault, if they did not love as long as they lived, and 'twas for that reason he had brought the Count, that he might reproach him with his falseness, if he should ever be worse than his engagement. That he would never see Mademoiselle de Fienne any more, to whom he was thought a Friend, but would leave her to the Chevalier de Lorain, her rightful Patron, and would perform the same to all the rest of the Ladies that were suspected, and she had only to advertise him if there was any one she would not have him see. But he required, that she should for her part, promise the same thing concerning those he should be jealous of; adding that he was so critical, that it was impossible for him to perceive any thing of that nature, and not have a quarrel with her for ever about it.  
The Count de Fiesque, who was a mediator on this occasion, said, that it was too reasonable, and the Mareschalless too just to oppose it. And in effect, she was so far from contradicting it, that with the greatest satisfaction she seemed to wish all mischief might happen unto her, if she would not do any thing for the possession of so illustrious a heart. The bargain thus concluded, without more Ceremony, he kissed her hand, in token of the Friendship he had vowed to her; when she, who thought those earnests not sufficient, threw her arms about his neck, and gave him a thousand amorous kisses: Had not the Prince been indisposed, his temper had been too acknowledging to have omitted a suitable answer. But knowing that it was not in this Distemper, that a hair of the same Dog was to be taken for a Remedy; he broke off the entertainment as soon as he could, upon promise to return alone the next day. But as it was impossible for him to make his Court in the right method, without occasioning both their Repentance, he pretended to be sick, which afforded him time to prepare for the Combat she expected.  
The Visit he made her alarmed the discarded Lovers, and not any of 'em doubted but it was to him they were sacrificed. Yet no other following of some time, it a little amused 'em, I mean upon his account, for having the same ill treatment continued to them, they were not the less unhappy; for their jealousy, changing only the Object, furnished 'em with reason enough to be discontented. D'Olonne, who had bestowed much money in purchasing her good favour, whether he regretted it, or was sorry to be deprived of the pleasure, accused the Marquis de Deffiat as the reason; and reported about, that he would be even with him; and to prove that he intended to be a man of his word, he hired some Bravoes to accompany him, and well armed, marched round the Hotel de la Ferté, swearing that if they found him there, he should not return as he came. Deffiat, altho' the younger, showed himself the wiser in this matter, telling those who acquainted him with these extravagancies, that he would have nothing to do with an old Cuckold: That he seemed to be angry, suspecting he had robbed him of his Mistress' heart, but he had a better opinion of the Lady, than to imagine she would continue a League with such a sort of a Man, when there were a thousand more deserving at her devotion.  
I know not whether this discourse was carried to the Count d'Olonne, but his resentment terminated in railing at the Mareschalless: And meeting her one day at a Lady's House of her acquaintance, he reproached her with it, and told her she had not always treated him with such indifferency. The Mareschalless, willing that her Friend should be deceived in the fault imputed to her, with a great presence of mind, answered, There is no great reason to wonder, Sir, I used you as my Brother-in-Law, whilst you gave good usage to my Sister, but since she has such ill treatment from you, I know no obligation that claims a greater acknowledgement from myself. These words would bear an interpretation, that her disrespect proceeded from his separation from his Wife, and was the first who spoke ill of her, and this was the explication the Mareschalless hoped the Lady would give 'em; but d'Olonne was too much concerned to suffer it, and that the Lady might not be deceived, No no, Madam, said he, leave your Banters, they are too gross to pass upon the Lady. I speak not of your Sister, but yourself, to whom I have given ten thousand Pistols, in hopes you would be faithful to me, but I sinned I am not happier either as a Husband, or a Gallant, which I own to my cursed Fate that drew me to address myself to your Family.  
These words, followed with some other reproaches, put the Mareschalless into a great Confusion, who thinking her Tears would persuade her Friend of her innocence, having the command of them when she pleased, so plentiful a Shower fell, that would have moved pity in any one who had not known she had been so admirable a Comedian when she pleased; in the mean time her friend, seeming to be persuaded of the untruth, extremely blamed the Count d'Olonne, who on his side thinking her in earnest, swore a thousand Oaths to justify the truth of what he affirmed: She answered, she could never believe it; but if it was so, the base Man was he to boast of things of that nature.  
When d'Olonne had vented his anger, he withdrew, and the Mareschalless swore after he was gone, that she would acquaint her Husband with it; but she never intended it. A severe fit of the Gout had long confined him to his Bed, and he was ignorant of the life she had led for a time.  
His indisposition was the reason that he could not perceive the Intrigue between his Wife and the Duke of Longueville, who was recovered, which would not otherwise have been difficult. For she not only banished all Company for the Love of him, but denied herself to play, tho' it was her second inclination. She feared lest that affording a general liberty of coming to all who pleased, might occasion his jealousy. Their next interview was at the Hotel de la Ferté, where the Duke giving her demonstration of a perfect health, he became so dear to her, that she could have no quiet till they had passed a whole night together; to oblige him to it, she told him that her Husband being ill of the Gout, it was the same thing as if he was abroad, since he was incapable to stir, and the security being without suspicion, he incurred no danger in it. The Duke of Longueville's violent Flames, being a little appeased by enjoyment, he told her she was in the right, but it was not reasonable to run so great a risk, when necessity did not compel it; that he agreed with her, the Marshal could not stir out from his Bed, but yet seeing him come into the House, it would be easy to observe he went not out again, which would ruin all their Affairs; that it was much better to meet abroad, and turn day into Night, where there would be no fears to interrupt their Joys, which seemed to be what she desired. They were too well acquainted to continue reserved, 'twas an Enjoyment as free as Nature she desired, and Caressed him till he agreed to yield her that contentment. He promised it should speedily be, and to keep his word, he desired Fiesque to hire a House in his name. He took one near St. Anthony's Gate, where the Mareschalless, pretending to go walk, sometimes to the Arsenal, sometimes to Vincenne, often came through a back Gate. The Petticoats began to rise with these Interviews, and finding herself with Child, she was in some concern. Yet seeming to be careless of the resentment of her Husband, to show the greater violence of Passion for her Gallant, she contrived ways to hid her great Belly, and was brought to Bed in her own Apartment.  
The Duke of Longueville would not be there, but sent de Fiesque in his place, who brought the Child away under a great Cloak. Whilst he was crossing a Court to come to his Coach, the Boy cried, and fearing to be discovered, he clapped his hand upon its mouth, and had like to have killed it. He carried it to the Duke, who was expecting of it at a House in the Suburbs St. , where a Nurse was provided. The delivery being happily over, she wanted not an excuse to keep her Bed, which made no body suspect the Affair, not even the Marshal, who was swearing in another Bed at every one that came near him, for he vented the vexation he had at his indisposition, upon those who had any business with him, tho' they were more deserving than himself; for he had committed a thousand Cruelties, and Exactions, not to reckon the Estates of others that he had gained half by force, and half by address.  
It is not without reason that I say this, since it tends more to my Subject, than you may imagine, as you may judge by what follows. His Wife had some Lands near Orleans, and he, being desirous to build, and to enlarge it, he bought a great deal of the Lands adjoining, not valuing at what rate, since he did not design to pay. One Gentleman amongst the rest, knowing how dangerous it is to have to do with a greater person than one's self, had forbore as long as he could to part with some of his Lands, but being overpowered by force, he had parted with 'em twenty years without receiving one penny for principal or interest; at last by this means reduced to great Wants, he threw himself at the King's feet, who stopped, and demanding of him the reason, he presented him a Petition, where his Case was stated in a few words. The King, who loved justice, sent immediately to command the Marshal to give the Gentleman satisfaction, within eight days at farthest.  
This Command was sent him during the lying in before mentioned, and you may imagine if his ill humour afforded much quiet to those about him. In fine, it happened that a Gentleman whom he had used ill, being an intimate Friend to the Count de Fiesque, was the next day after this Adventure, complaining of his treatment to him, and the Count answered him, that he was an old Cuckold, and he had no reason to think it strange, since such was his usage to all the World, but his Wife was sufficiently revenged of him, for not only her own but their quarrels to him. Whether we are delighted to hear ill of those that have done us injuries, or whether out of a natural inclination to mischief, he was so pleased at these words, that he desired the Count, whom he found fully instructed, to tell him some particularities; and he being so imprudent to content him, and at the same time to tell him that the Mareschalless was now lying in, he departed very well satisfied. His design was not to let this story be forgot, so he called for Pen and Ink, and his hand being not known to the Marshal, he communicated this advice to him, which he thought would not be very agreeably received.  
This Letter came to the Marshal by the Post, for the Gentleman for that end had carried it himself to Estampes. The Marshal when he opened it, was very much surprised at the News, which he thought seemed very probable, his Wife having for some time, pretended to be sick, and the distemper neither increased nor diminished, and he was informed in Case he should be incredulous, he might still have an opportunity to clear his doubts. It is not easy to imagine what effect such advice should produce in so violent a Man: had the Mareschalless been in a condition to rise, she might easily have carried it off, but her good Fortune was, that his Gout confined him to his Bed, and he was incapable of any thing but making Reflections: So that, besides the opinion that he was of, that the least noise would be best for his Reputation, he could not tell but he might be engaged for her upon the Gentleman's account, above mentioned, since it is not the custom at Paris to lend Money to Ladies without something under their hands, which would fall upon him.  
These two Circumstances having not appeased his resentment, but obstructed those several Consequences he was meditating upon, he demanded not to be satisfied as he was counselled, knowing that after it he was obliged to keep no measures. Nevertheless he thought not the less, for the time of lying in being passed, the Lady's distemper vanished, and she came into his Chamber in as good health as if she had ailed nothing. As soon as he saw her, he began to cry out as if he had a fit of his Pain, and the Mareschalless demanding the reason. Ah Madam, said he, when you cried out louder than I do, not long ago, I did not ask you what was the matter, and therefore pray let me alone. These words, which expressed much without any positive meaning, gave the Lady occasion to think; and that she might not make any discoveries in her Countenance, she immediately retired; and the Duke of Longueville making her a visit, she told him what had happened to her, which did not at all hinder their accustomed Entertainments. The Child's name was inserted in the Letter which the Marshal received, so that he suspected the Duke's Visit, and after it he constantly, when a Coach came, enquired whose it was. He sound every day the Duke was of the throng that visited his Wife, and this assiduousness confirmed him in the truth of what he was informed of.  
The King at this time having War with Holland, every body of Quality accompanied him, and the Duke of Longueville amongst the rest, than a Colonel of Horse. The Mareschalless parted with him less concerned than might easily be imagined, it being occasioned by a little quarrel there happened betwixt them, upon the account of the Countess of Nogent whom he admired as she had heard. There was but little likelihood of it; for this Countess, who was sister to the Count de Lausun, had neither his shape, air, nor Beauty; but it being difficult to cure a mind seized with Jealousy, the doubt was so imprinted, that it passed with her for a truth; and 'tis true, tho' all of it was not, yet a part of it at least was certain, for undoubtedly this Lady had a violent Passion for the young Prince, as she manifested upon several occasions.  
However the King had fixed the day of his departure, and the Duke took no great care to undeceive the Mareschalless, and he left her without clearing the feuds between 'em; for he began to be jealous of Bechameil, one of the dregs of the People, but richer than many of higher condition, which was a quality very Charming to her, especially if it was accompanied with liberality: But tho' the Citizen was very passionate, she had made no returns to his Amour, for fear of angering the Duke, who had so declared against a sharer, that she durst not show the Complaisance she had for his Riches.  
Having parted after this manner, few Letters passed between 'em, which was to Bechameil's advantage, for he found the means to make himself agreeable to the Mareschalless, by offering at the same time to her Devotion, both his Purse and his Heart. At first she refused both, apprehending lest the Duke of Longueville might have left some body at Paris, to observe her Conduct; but this Prince having the ill fortune to be killed about six weeks after his departure, upon a Pass on the River Rhine, she was very sorry she had refused a Man that might be of advantage to her more than one way, after the loss she had received. All who knew this Princess' Intrigue, wondered she should receive so indifferently the news of his death, for she was at the Thuilleries the next day, as merry as ever. It was not so with the Countess of Nogent, she was ready to die with Grief; but losing her Husband on the same occasion, it was a very good Colour for her extraordinary grief, and improved her Reputation in the Opinion of the World.  
Bechameil being rid of so dangerous a Rival, found a greater easiness in his designs than he could have hoped for; for the Mareschalless, dreading lest he should be quite discouraged by her refusal, writ him a very obliging Letter to this purpose.  
The Mareschalless de la Ferté, to Mr. Bechameil, Secretary to the Council.  
THE World will have it that I have had a great loss in the Duke of Longueville, since he loved me passionately enough to merit a regret; it is a strange thing they will pretend to judge better than myself of what concerns me. It is true, my loss has been very considerable, but they are ignorant of it, and if I may speak freely, I know no other, but that of not having seen you for some time. I cannot guests the reason of it, unless it proceeds from my not granting all you desired at first demand; but is it seemly to yield so soon? and because I am of the Court, would you have me like those Ladies, who are glad to begin an Intrigue by the conclusion? I am not of that fashion, and tho' you should never like me for it, I cannot repent me for not resembling them.  
Bechameil was too understanding to miss of the right interpretation of this Letter, so that arming himself with a Purse charged with four hundred Pistols, his time being dear to him, and unwilling to waste it in fruitless words, with this good Succour, he marched to the Hotel de la Ferté; where, To be short Madam, says he, I heard that you lost upon honour yesterday four hundred Pistols, and since persons of Quality may sometimes happen to be without ready Money, I have brought you that same to free you from the trouble of procuring it elsewhere. The Mareschalless understood his meaning but thinking it too low a rate to dispose of herself to a little Citizen. Sir, says she, I cannot imagine who could tell you this, but he has only acquainted you with half my misfortune: I was so unlucky truly to lose eight hundred, and if you could lend 'em me, I should take it for a very great Obligation. Eight hundred Pistols, Madam, replied he, that's a considerable Sum in this Age; but no matter, 'tis a Trial I must make for your sake; take nevertheless what I have brought, and I will give you my Note for the rest, if you will not take my Word.  
He said this with so good a grace, that she thought fit to trust him till the next day, and telling him that all was at his Service, he began to return her thanks in kissing her hand. She after that offered him her face, where he making too long a stay, What, Sir, said she, dare you do no more till you have paid? let not that hinder you, your word, as I told you before, is ready money to me, and I wish withal my heart you were farther indebted to me.  
She might say this perhaps for fear the man should begin to consider, and not taking his Merchandise, should not think himself obliged to pay her; for she could not be so covetous of his person, as out of desire to enjoy it, thus to hasten the Conclusion. Bechameil, nevertheless, not at all surprised at the Discourse (which would perhaps have startled any other) Patience, Madam, cries he, every thing in due season, Paris was not built in a day. I am passed five and fifty, and persons of my age cannot ride post when they please. These reasons were too good and solid to be denied, so that giving what time he required, he in fortus at last arrived where he desired. The Lady, who would not have him departed discontented, told him persons of his age were to be admired, that there was nothing but Brutality in youth, desiring him to afford her an hour or two of his Company as often as he could. The good man, who loved pleasure when it did not endanger his health, imagining she demanded a meeting for the next day, excused himself upon some business he had at Council, but sent her the remaining four hundred Pistols, and she thought it convenient to return him thanks for 'em in this following Letter.  
The Mareschalless de la Ferté to Bechameil.  
ALtho' there is a great deal of pleasure in seeing the Lovis d'Ors you have sent me, yet let your opinion be what it will, they would have been more acceptable to me, had I received 'em from your own hands; but my greatest dissatisfaction is, that I must part with 'em, and that it is impossible for me to keep 'em, to show you what esteem I make of any thing that comes from you. The grief of it would kill me, did I not hope I should not always be unhappy, and that you on your part would often renew those demonstrations of Friendship, which will always be very dear to me. You would do me an injury to doubt of it, since one of your age must needs know how great an esteem is always placed upon that which comes from a person beloved.  
What! goodness! cried Bechameil, when he had read the Letter, has she a mind to ruin me? and must I pay her so plentifully because I am old? This Reflection, joined with the little pressing occasions of his temper, made the business at Council last three days longer than it would have otherwise done; but that being expired, he resolved to go see if the money he had parted with, would be worth to him at least another Visit. The first word the Mareschalless spoke to him, was, Ah Sir, I think I was born to be ever unfortunate, I lost again yesterday five hundred Pistols. To her good fortune she was so handsome that day, that tho' the Compliment did not please him, he returned her this answer, Well, Madam, since it is so, don't despair, for you have some Friends left still, who will not forsake you for so small a matter. The Mareschalless not at all doubting but his meaning was either to give 'em her down, or send 'em within an hour, gave him all the signs of acknowledgement she could think of; but Company coming in, the measures of assuring the payment were broke, so that going before the others about some business, or rather with premeditated design, he forgot his promise. There was a little malice in what he did, and he began to be weary of buying her good favour at so dear a rate; but that not answering her purpose, she writ him a new Billet to remind him of his Promise. He sent her the Money accompanied with this answer.  
Bechameil to the Mareschalless de la Ferté.  
THE Leases of Farms are commonly made from nine years to nine years, and the Rent quarterly advanced. I speak to you, as a Man of knowledge, since I am concerned in 'em, and do not repent of it, because it has taught me how to live. As I am then a man of Order, I must tell you it is impossible to continue a Commerce with you, when I know not how we are to agree. I will take a Lease of your Farm when you please, the rate and time of payment shall be settled, but after that require no more of me; without this there will be no probability of subsisting, and you will soon send me to the Goal.  
This Letter did not at all please the Mareschalless, who expected the benefit of his Purse as often as she desired; and as if the Merchandise had been worth his money, she could hardly forbear returning him reproaches; yet she stayed some days to see if he would mollify of himself, when fearing to lose him, she writ him these words.  
The Mareschalless to Bechameil.  
I Am extremely surprised at your Complaints, since I have never said or done any thing to disoblige you. If we have affairs with one another, there must be a meeting to regulate 'em, and you shall never find me against any thing that is reasonable. But it is whole years since I have seen you, and this is the usage is given from those who pretend an occasion to quarrel.  
Pretend an occasion, cries Bechameil, when he had red the Letter, and is fourteen thousand three hundred Livres in eight days time nothing, according to her reckoning; if this should last, I must of necessity break, and it would be to little purpose to oppress the People, the Recompense would be but little, after so great a loss. When he had said a great many things to the same tune, he took his Cloak and Gloves, and went to her in great anger. The time that was required to get thither had a little appeased him, so that when he arrived, Madam, says he, I come to see if we can agree about the price, I will tell you in a word the most I will give, if ten thousand Crowns a year will do, 'tis at your service, and pray let me know if you are contented. That's but a little for me, answered the Mareschalless, I often play off as much in a day, and what must I do the rest of the time? What, Madam, replied Bechameil, cannot you live without Play? No, Sir, answered she, 'tis impossible. She might have also added, any more than without Love, but she judged it properer to let him imagine it, than to mention it herself.  
Bechameil, as much in Love as he was, had more concern for his Interest, so that being not pleased at the Answer, he threw up his head, which the Mareschalless perceiving, endeavoured with all her Art to soothe him. She said then, that every body might live, he should make it twenty thousand Crowns; but he stormed at the proposition, and swore he would not go one farthing beyond the ten thousand he had offered, and waited only for her resolution. The Mareschalless finding him so obstinate, was obliged to be contented; yet she would have a Bottle of Wine, because, as she said, no bargains of consequence were ever made without it. Bechameil had nothing to say against it, and the Bargain being concluded, he was obliged to pay her twelve thousand five hundred Livres the next day. For she would have a quarter before hand. Since he had acknowledged it in his Letter to be the Custom in those Cases. It was hard for him to part with the Sum entire, having not long before paid two such considerable ones; but considering she could not after that demand any thing of him for three Months, he overcame his inclinations, which was not the least sign he could give her of his Affections.  
For these three Sums he enjoyed the body of the Lady, for her heart was then in the possession of the Count de Tallard, tho' he kept it not long, his talon being rather to please the Men than the Women. I cannot say who took his place, for she had treated so many as if she had loved 'em, that I might very well be mistaken, should I pretend to say who was her favourite.  
The old Marshal still kept his Bed with the Gout. He thanked Heaven for ridding him of the Duke of Longueville, hoping according to the Italian Proverb, that says, The Beast being dead, the Venom dies, the world would forget what was passed; and one would have thought that he had forgot it himself, for when she came into his Chamber, he called her nothing but my Love and my Heart, which were not the words he used to give her before. But to afford him a new mortification, it was told him, that the Duke of Longueville had left a Bastard, which the King intended to legitimate, he durst not ask who was the Mother of it, but the Messenger of this news saved him that Trouble, or rather threw him into a greater, by acquainting him that the Mother was concealed, and it might for that reason very probably be some married Woman.  
The Mareschalless, coming into his Chamber some time after, he no longer continued his sweet words, but entertained her with Curses, the common Ornament of his Discourse. To be even with him, she left him alone with his dogged humour, and went to comfort herself with Bechameil who brought her a quarter of her pension. 'Tis strange this man who was as proud as commonly those are who come from nothing, should suffer her to play a thousand tricks before his face; but the pleasure to hear it said, that he had the wife of a Marshal of France to his Mistress, made him pass over many things; and besides she had taken care to persuade him that tho' there might be some appearances to the contrary, she was nevertheless reserved to him alone. But tho' he had often relied upon these excuses, when he perceived she parted with what he gave her, to make herself valued by others, it so incensed him, that he writ her this Letter.  
Bechameil to the Mareschalless de la Ferté.  
I Break off the agreement I made with you, since you have failed to perform the conditions, You had obliged yourself to give the possession of your heart to me alone, and now you would force me to partake it with an infinite number of others you rendezvous with every day. So that not being seized of the whole I am contented to part with what I had to the advantage of whom you please, or, to speak properer, to the first Comer; in doing whereof, I shall for the future employ my ten thousand Crowns in Manuring a ground which shall be tilled by me alone.  
The Lady was much troubled at this Letter, so considerable a Sum was of use to her, besides the otehr presents she often wheedled from him. And truly she had reason to be concerned at it, for her husband's affairs went at this time so ill, that he who was once esteemed the richest man in Paris, subsisted wholly now upon the favour of the Court. For this reason she did what she could to recall him, but whether he knew there was no relying upon her word, which promised a better Conduct for the future, or whether he began to be tired with her, he would never hear any thing of it.  
There being now not any of her acquaintance Cully enough to furnish for this Equipage, she was obliged to retrench her Expenses, which was not a little trouble to her heart. Her Husband dying not long after, it grew worse, and the Pensions ceasing, she was reduced to a lower state. To better her Fortune, she then resolved not to play herself, since she had not wherewithal, but to afford an opportunity of playing at Lansquenet at her House, that the advantage would accrue to her by it, might in a little measure comfort her for the extraordinary losses had happened to her in so short a time. Every one being welcome for their Money, the sharpers came thither, as well as people of Condition, and one of the greatest Note amongst'em, called du Pré, having insinuated to her, that there were some ways to recompense her ill fortune in the World. Play was no securer there than amongst the other Cutthroat Houses in Paris. This being discovered by those who were not of du Pré's profession, the Company lessened, and the advantage by consequence ceased, so that to make amends, she drew a number of choice Women to her House, in hopes that the report of their Beauty and Wit would invite the young people thither, and such a meeting was established where all sorts of tricks were practised to afford her a subsistence. Her chief designs were aimed against the strangers of quality, who having not yet heard of it, thought themselves extremely happy, to come and be ruined by her. One of her greatest Confidents among the Ladies, was the Marchioness de Royan, and 'tis not to be imagined what they passed upon every body. At last a Suiz Officer having lost very much, and making some observations, made a a great noise of it as he had occasion; but having to do with people of Quality, and being advised by his Friends to take heed of the Bastille, if he should continue these stories, he took another course, and having printed papers which advised all strangers that came to town to take heed of that House, he fixed it on all the gates of Paris.  
That the Marchioness de Royan may be known to those who have not had the happiness to be acquainted with her, she was the daughter of the late Duke of Noirmoutier, who having spent his Estate, lest his Family in a condition to be pitied. This Lady then having no fortune to marry her, was forced to go into a Nunnery, very much against her inclinations, when the Count d'Olonne, who was of the same Family, fell in Love with her. He had for some time endeavoured to make himself be beloved by her, but being not agreeable enough to succeed in it, to make her the more compassionate towards him, he thought of proposing her a marriage with the Chevalier de Royan his own Brother. There was nothing in nature more horrible than this Chevalier, both for his Person and Sense: For tho' he was neither crooked nor maimed, he had rather the air of a Cow than a Man, and was so plunged in all sorts of debauchery, that no people of Reputation would be seen in his Company. But how disagreeable soever he might be, a Convent was yet more, in the opinion of this Lady, for she not only resolved to marry him, but also to pay her acknowledgements for it to the Count d'Olonne; 'twas by this means the Count arrived at his desires, but before he would sign some Writings whereby he settled his Estate upon his Brother in favour of this marriage, he would have her by all means grant him what she had promised him, which she faithfully performed like a Woman of Honour.  
Thus it was, that the Count d'Olonne fearing there should be no Cuckolds in the Family, took himself care of that Subject. In the mean time this Lady being so well set out in the Paths of Virtue, grew perfecter every day in all its methods, so that for Play and Gallantry she was a second to none, altho' she had been educated under the Wing of a Mother, who had taught her other Lessons. The Count d'Olonne who had a falling out with his Lady about this marriage, was reconciled to her and her Family, and this had occasioned that particular intimacy between the Marchioness de Royan and the Mareschalless de la Ferte, who could not live without one another. du Pré, as I have said before, finding 'em so well inclined, was their Master in teaching them to pack the Cards, and all the other slights in which they became very expert, but this Trade being not the best in the World, too many driving that sort of Commerce, and every one growing suspicious, the Mareschalless (no one being now left to forbid her the sight of her Sister,) took those Opportunities to rob her of Feruaques.  
It is impossible to mention the Stratagems she used for that purpose, not out of covetousness of his person which was not too engaging, but in hopes of sharing in his Fortune. For she was vexed at the very heart, that her Sister, who was older than herself by several years, and had not a better Reputation, should have a purse like his at her command, whilst she was in want of every thing. He had truly, either out of an excess of passion or folly, made her several considerable presents, and amongst the rest, a fine House he had in Coqueron street. He was scarcely believed fool enough for this, tho' it was a general report about Paris; but the Countess, who was proud of the gift, which was nevertheless a sign of the continuation of her ill life, would suffer 'em no longer to doubt of it, wherefore the House being to be let, she caused it to be inserted in the Bill, that they were to come to her to agree about the price.  
Madam de Bonelle, who already loved her not much, being acquainted with this, sent to palls down the Bill in the middle of the day, and the Countess commanded another to be put up, and this was all the noise she made at it. She was not so moderate with her Sister, who, as I have already said, would have robbed her of Feruaques, for they scolded so much at each other, that all the truth came out; this was not very commendable in two Women of Quality, and especially between two Sisters. Yet it was not very extraordinary, for the same accident happened to two others whom I could name, were it to my subject, however the Mareschalless had it returned to her, not long after from other hands, and the Duke de la Ferté her Son, who was the most debauched in the World; was of those who took no great care of her Reputation. They had fallen out about some concerns, so that he who had not Estate enough to furnish her extravagancies, could not suffer her demands of a Dower, and began by ask of her, if she who had ruined his Father, had, notwithstanding that, a design to rob him of all? The Mareschalless, not mild enough to bear these reproaches, told him that he truly had great reason to complain, who was not only despised by the Court but the Town. This was nothing but the truth, but as all truths are not to be spoke; he could not bear it, but replied, if there was no reason on his side, there was yet less on hers, who was an old Wh—e, and hereupon he reckoned up all that had to do with her, and the sum amounted to threescore and twelve; a thing not to be credited, was not Paris sufficiently satisfied of the truth of what I say.  
The Mareschalless bid him not forget his own Wife, who was as much to blame as any body; but the Duke stopped her mouth by telling her, he very well knew he was a Cuckold, but that did not hinder his Father from being one beforehand, in marriage, and after his death.  
These reproaches had so discomposed the Mareschalless that she began to cry, but she had to deal with so tender hearted a man, that instead of being concerned, he only laughed at her. The Comedy thus finished, she made her Complaints to the Count d'Olonne, where he often went. You have nothing but what you deserve, answered the Count, and when your curiosity had led you from the Sceptre to the Spade, how is it possible your affairs should be less public. Some former resentments had occasioned this reproach, but when he had pleased himself with this, he promised her it should not hinder him from correcting her Son; and meeting him about an hour after, he told him he was extremely to blame in giving his Mother such Language. That one of his years could not be ignorant, that nothing could excuse the respect he owed her, and that if he did not believe him drunk when these words happened, he could not tell what to say to it. The Duke in all likelihood would be meditating some excuses to colour so great a fault, or being very much ashamed of it, would deny it; but without rising or stirring, it is true, says he, I was drunk, and 'twas very well for her I was so; I should otherwise have told her some other truths, for I have so faithful a list of all her famous Exploits, that I know of so much as the Necklace of Pearl she made the Chevalier de Lignerac cheat Mr. de Dreux the Counsellor of, there is nothing I am ignorant of. The Count asked him if he was not ashamed to talk thus of his Mother, but all the Reprimands were too insignificant to reduce him to reason.  
As there were few actions passed in the Kingdom unknown to the king, he was soon entertained with the diversion of this Comedy, which made him have so ill thoughts of this Family, that he could not forbear discovering 'em. But the Duke de la Ferté, who knew his Reputation was already lost with him, concerned himself for it no more than the Mareschalless, who continued this way of living; so that perhaps I may some other time acquaint you of the rest of her life, as well as the Story of Madam de Lionne, if they are still so lucky to meet with those who will accept of 'em, and Age as well as Shame does not bring 'em to Conversion.  
FINIS.