from him as ever!

'You have come to repeat the old song to me, Monsieur Lajolais,' said
Fouche one evening, as his wily subordinate entered the room; 'you have
nothing to tell me, eh?'

'Very little, Monsieur le Ministre, but still something. I have at last
found out where Moreau spends all his evenings. I told you that about
half-past nine o'clock every night all lights were extinguished in his
quarters, and, from the unbroken stillness, it was conjectured that
he had retired to bed. Now it seems that about an hour later, he is
accustomed to leave his house, and, crossing the Place de l'Odeon, to
enter the little street called the "Allee du Caire," where, in a
small house next but one to the corner, resides a certain officer, _en
retraite_--a Colonel Mahon of the Cuirassiers.'

'A Royalist?'

'This is suspected, but not known. His polities, however, are not in
question here; the attraction is of a different order.'

'Ha! I perceive; he has a wife or a daughter.'

'Better still, a mistress. You may have heard of the famous Caroline de
Stassart, that married a Dutchman named D'Aersohot.'

'Madame Laure, as they called her.' said Fouche, laughing.

'The same. She has lived as Mahon's wife for some years, and was as
such introduced into society; in fact, there is no reason, seeing what
society is in these days, that she should not participate in all its
pleasures.'

'No matter for that,' broke in Fouche; 'Bonaparte will not have it so.
He wishes that matters should go back to the old footing, and wisely
remarks, that it is only in savage life that people or vices go without
clothing.'

'Be it so, monsieur. In the present case no such step is necessary. I
know her maid, and from her I have heard that her mistress is heartily
tired of her protector. It was originally a sudden fancy, taken when she
knew nothing of life--had neither seen anything, nor been herself seen.
By the most wasteful habits she has dissipated all, or nearly all, her
own large fortune, and involved Mahon heavily in debt; and they are thus
reduced to a life of obscurity and poverty--the very things the least
endurable to all her notions.'

'Well, does she care for Moreau?' asked Fouche quickly; for all stories
to his ear only resolved themselves into some question of utility or
gain.

'No, but he does for her. About a year back she did take a liking to
him. He was returning from his great German campaign, covered with
honours and rich in