e
indeed all the pills, that you, my honoured Lord Marshal cause to be
turned and moulded and which the thousand surgeons press Upon the
perverted, have not purged them of the evil, nor even ameliorated it.
What does it profit then that the busy men so diligently assist with
their bayonets, nor do these lances, nor the incisions of the gentlemen
dragoons improve the blood. Also your imprisonments and executions in
the public places have no success. What can your reasoning, your cold,
calm persuasions effect, that the whole country, frankly speaking,
stands like a great, disbanded madhouse, where the lunatics with their
dogmas rage against one another, and like dogs, set on to fight, gnash
with their teeth. I think the air is infectuous, and renders insane,
and thus it has happened to young Edmond and my poor son. Whom the devil
rides, cannot certainly affirm that he possesses an abundance of free
will to go and come; but what could have bribed me to lay the stirrup
on the shoulders of my only son, in order that the black raven father
of all lies might be able to mount him more comfortably? only reflect
on that yourselves, generous men."

"I but half understand you," said the Marshal.

"I pardon much in consideration of your grief," replied the Intendant.

"But why as not the Lord of Beauvais appeared at our trial?"
recommenced the general; "wherefore is he fled? Does not that action
bespeak him criminal? and do you know anything of him and of his
retreat? can you impart to us some information of his proceedings? do
you keep him concealed? confess the whole truth."

"Your excellency," said the doctor, "the old sinner has assuredly
escaped because he is indeed suspected, even by me, and certainly could
not appear here with safety and decency."

"Proceed," said the Lord of Basville, "you are approaching nearer the
point to my satisfaction."

"You know it as well as I do," replied Vila, "the scandal is notorious
throughout the whole country. He would have been forced to come here
baldheaded to speak and answer. I will even consent that one may
dispense with ruffles, lay down his sword, embroidery on the garments,
or the cravat may also without herisy be esteemed as superfluous; but
if you consider, that for more than ten years, he lived there yonder in
his desert without a wig like a Theban hermit, you cannot then possibly
have any confidence in the orthodoxy of his sentiments. How should his
head remain sound, when