ced him and confessed my hardihood. He was
sorry to lose me, but he laughed when he thought of the feelings of the
duke and of the three officers when they found out the trick. He promised
to write to me at Mannheim, where I had decided on spending a week to see
my beloved Algardi, who was in the service of the Elector. I had also
letters for M. de Sickirigen and Baron Becker, one of the Elector's
ministers.

When the horses were put in I embraced Baletti, his little girl, and his
pretty housekeeper, and ordered the postillion to drive to Mannheim.

When we reached Mannheim I heard that the Court was at Schwetzingen, and
I bade the postillion drive on. I found everyone I had expected to see.
Algardi had got married, M. de Sickingen was soliciting the position of
ambassador to Paris, and Baron Becker introduced me to the Elector. Five
or six days after my arrival died Prince Frederic des Deux Ponts, and I
will here relate an anecdote I heard the day before he died.

Dr. Algardi had attended on the prince during his last illness. I was
supping with Veraci, the poet-laureate, on the eve of the prince's death,
and in the course of supper Algardi came in.

"How is the prince?" said I.

"The poor prince--he cannot possibly live more than twenty-four hours."

"Does he know it?"

"No, he still hopes. He grieved me to the heart by bidding me tell him
the whole truth; he even bade me give my word of honour that I was
speaking the truth. Then he asked me if he were positively in danger of
death."

"And you told him the truth?"

"Certainly not. I told him his sickness was undoubtedly a mortal one, but
that with the help of nature and art wonders might be worked."

"Then you deceived him, and told a lie?"

"I did not deceive him; his recovery comes under the category of the
possible. I did not want to leave him in despair, for despair would most
certainly kill him."

"Yes, yes; but you will confess that you told him a lie and broke your
word of honour."

"I told no lie, for I know that he may possibly be cured."

"Then you lied just now?"

"Not at all, for lie will die to-morrow."

"It seems to me that your reasoning is a little Jesuitical."

"No, it is not. My duty was to prolong my patient's life and to spare him
a sentence which would most certainly have shortened it, possibly by
several hours; besides, it is not an absolute impossibility that he
should recover, therefore I did not lie when I told him that he