ss; I will have none with
those who have either been my friends or appeared to be such. I must
therefore beg you will cease all attempts at a correspondence which can
lead to no good results.

"I have the honour to remain, &c., &c."

After this business was despatched, I caused Sophie to be sent for to
attend me.

"Well, Sophie," said I, "you perceive the confusion you have occasioned
through your folly. Is it then true that the duc de Villeroi has spoken
of love to you?"

"Yes, indeed, madam," replied the poor girl, weeping bitterly.

"And you return his passion."

"I believe so, madam."

This _naif_ confession made me smile. I continued--

"Then you are not quite sure of the fact?"

"No, madam; for when I do not see him I forget all about it; but when
he is before me, so handsome and so generous, so full of love, I try to
make myself equally fond of him; but somehow I cannot help preferring
his courier, M. l'Eclair."

These last words completely destroyed all attempts at preserving my
gravity, and I burst into the most uncontrollable laughter, which,
however, soon gave place to a painful recollection of how soon this
young and artless creature, as simple as she was beautiful, was likely
to lose this open-heartedness in the hands of her seducer.

"Sophie," said I to her at last, "this unfortunate affair forbids my
retaining you any longer in my service; I am compelled to send you from
me. I trust this noble lover of yours will never forsake you; have a
care only to conceal from him, should you persist in encouraging his
addresses, that he has a rival in the person of his courier, l'Eclair."

Sophie threw herself weeping at my feet. I raised and encouraged her by
the kindest words to pursue the right path, but I remained steady in my
determination of sending her from me.

I was not mistaken. The duc de Villeroi became the possessor of poor
Sophie, and publicly boasted of having her under his protection. He did
not, however, proceed to these extreme measures until he had essayed
every possible means of effecting a reconciliation with me, and he
employed more than a hundred persons in the vain attempt of inducing me
to pardon him. With this view the marechale de Mirepoix, whose succour
he had implored, observed to me that it was sometimes necessary to feign
to overlook an insult; I replied, that dissimulation was an art I knew
nothing of, nor did I wish ever to acquire it.

"Really, my dear countess," cr