ed this dinner better than Kettler's supper. The burgomaster was a
fine-looking man, pleasant-mannered and intelligent, and a lover of peace
and quietness. His wife, whom he adored, ought to have loved him, since
he was by no means one of those husbands whose motto is, "Displease whom
you like, so long as you please me."

On her husband's going out for a short time, she shewed me over the
house.

"Here is our bedroom," said she; "and this is the closet in which I sleep
for five or six nights in every month. Here is a church which we may look
upon as our private chapel, as we hear mass from those two grated
windows. On Sundays we go down this stair and enter the church by a door,
the key to which is always in my keeping." It was the second Saturday in
Lent; we had an excellent fasting dinner, but I did not for once pay much
attention to eating. To see this young and beautiful woman surrounded by
her children, adored by her family, seemed to me a beautiful sight. I
left them at an early hour to write to Esther, whom I did not neglect,
all occupied as I was with this new flame.

Next day I went to hear mass at the little church next to the
burgomaster's house. I was well cloaked so as not to attract attention. I
saw my fair one going out wearing a capuchin, and followed by her family.
I noted the little door which was so recessed in the wall that it would
have escaped the notice of anyone who was unaware of its existence; it
opened, I saw, towards the staircase.

The devil, who, as everybody knows, has more power in a church than
anywhere else, put into my head the idea of enjoying my mistress by means
of the door and stair. I told her my plan the next day at the theatre.

"I have thought of it as well as you," said she, laughing, "and I will
give you the necessary instructions in writing; you will find them in the
first gazette I send you."

We could not continue this pleasant interview, as my mistress had with
her a lady from Aix-la-Chapelle, who was staying with her for a few days.
And indeed the box was full of company.

I had not long to wait, for next day she gave me back the gazette openly,
telling me that she had not found anything to interest her in it. I knew
that it would be exceedingly interesting to me. Her note was as follows:

"The design which love inspired is subject not to difficulty but
uncertainty. The wife only sleeps in the closet when her husband asks
her--an event which only occurs at certai