him. It is worthy of narration.

A pretty shopkeeper of Paris, named Gaubert, who lived in the rue de
la Montagne Sainte-Genevieve, had recently married a woman much younger
than himself. From the Petit Pont to the rue Mouffetard, madame Gaubert
was talked of for her lovely face and beautiful figure; she was the
Venus of the quarter. Everybody paid court to her, but she listened to
none of her own rank, for her vanity suggested that she deserved suitors
of a loftier rank.

Her husband was very jealous. Unfortunately M. Gaubert had for cousin
one of the valets of the king: this man, who knew the taste of his
master, thought how he could best turn his pretty cousin to account.
He spoke to her of the generosity of Louis XV, of the grandeur of
Versailles, and of the part which her beauty entitled her to play there.
In fact, he so managed to turn the head of this young woman, that she
begged him to obtain for her a place in the king's favor. Consequently
Girard (that was his name) went to madame de Laugeac, and told her the
affair as it was. She pleased with an opportunity of injuring me, went
to Paris, and betook herself _incog._ to the shop of madame Gaubert. She
found her charming, and spoke of her to the duc de la Vrilliere, and
both agreed to show her portrait to his majesty. But how to procure this
portrait? Her husband was her very shadow, and never left her. _Le petit
saint_, who was never at a loss, issued a _lettre de cachet_ against
him, and the unfortunate man was shut up in Fort l'Eveque. It was not
until the portrait was finished that he was set at liberty.

He returned to his home without guessing at the motives of his
detention, but he learned that his wife had had her portrait painted
during his absence, and his jealousy was set to work. Soon a letter from
Girard, a fatal letter, which fell into his hands, convinced him of the
injury done him. He took his wife apart, and, feigning a resignation
which he did not feel, "My love," he said, "I loved thee, I love thee
still: I thought, too, that thou wert content with our competence, and
wouldst not have quitted thine husband for any other in the world: I
have been convinced otherwise. A letter from Girard informs me, that
with thine own consent the king, whom thy portrait has pleased, desires
to see thee this very day. It is a misfortune, but we must submit. Only
before thou art established at Versailles, I should wish thee to dine
with me once more. You can i