sieurs Malicorne and Manicamp. Malicorne we know, had made
the journey to Orleans in search of the brevet destined for Mademoiselle
de Montalais, the arrival of which had produced such a strong feeling
at the castle of Blois. At that moment, M. de Manicamp was at Orleans.
A singular person was this M. de Manicamp; a very intelligent young
fellow, always poor, always needy, although he dipped his hand freely
into the purse of M. le Comte de Guiche, one of the best furnished
purses of the period. M. le Comte de Guiche had had, as the companion
of his boyhood, this De Manicamp, a poor gentleman, vassal-born, of the
house of Grammont. M. de Manicamp, with his tact and talent, had created
himself a revenue in the opulent family of the celebrated marechal. From
his infancy he had, with calculation beyond his age, lent his name
and complaisance to the follies of the Comte de Guiche. If his noble
companion had stolen some fruit destined for Madame la Marechale, if he
had broken a mirror, or put out a dog's eye, Manicamp declared himself
guilty of the crime committed, and received the punishment, which was
not made the milder for falling on the innocent. But this was the way
this system of abnegation was paid for: instead of wearing such mean
habiliments as his paternal fortunes entitled him to, he was able to
appear brilliant, superb, like a young noble of fifty thousand livres a
year. It was not that he was mean in character or humble in spirit; no,
he was a philosopher, or rather he had the indifference, the apathy, the
obstinacy which banish from man every sentiment of the supernatural. His
sole ambition was to spend money. But, in this respect, the worthy M. de
Manicamp was a gulf. Three or four times every year he drained the Comte
de Guiche, and when the Comte de Guiche was thoroughly drained, when he
had turned out his pockets and his purse before him, when he declared
that it would be at least a fortnight before paternal munificence would
refill those pockets and that purse, Manicamp lost all his energy, he
went to bed, remained there, ate nothing and sold his handsome clothes,
under the pretense that, remaining in bed, he did not want them. During
this prostration of mind and strength, the purse of the Comte de Guiche
was getting full again, and when once filled, overflowed into that of De
Manicamp, who bought new clothes, dressed himself again, and recommenced
the same life he had followed before. The mania of selling hi