valent excess of crime. Horn was publicly broken on the wheel with
his second accomplice; the other died just before: they were both
gentlemen and of noble families. When they arrived at the place of
punishment, they begged the people to implore the pardon of Heaven upon
their sins. The spectators were affected to tears, but they nevertheless
agreed in the just severity of their punishment. The people said aloud
after the execution, "Our Regent has done justice."

One lady was blaming another, her intimate friend, for loving a very
ugly man. The latter said, "Did he ever speak to you tenderly or
passionately?"--"No," replied the former. "Then you cannot judge," said
her friend, "whether I ought to love him or not."

Madame de Nemours used to say, "I have observed one thing in this
country, 'Honour grows again as well as hair.'"

An officer, a gentleman of talent, whose name was Hautmont, wrote the
following verses upon Cardinal Mazarin, for which he was locked up in the
Bastille for eighteen months:

Creusons tous le tombeau
A qui nous persecute;
A ce Jules nouveauu
Cherchons un nouveau Brute.
Que le jour serait beau,
Si nous voyions sa chute!

The Queen-mother could not endure Boisrobert on account of his impiety;
she did not like him to visit her sons, the King and Monsieur, in their
youth, but they were very fond of him because he used to amuse them.
When he was at the point of death, the Queen-mother sent some priests to
convert him and to prepare him for confession. Boisrobert appeared
inclined to confess. "Yes, mon Dieu," said he, devoutly joining his
hands, "I sincerely implore Thy pardon, and confess that I am a great
sinner, but thou knowest that the Abbe de Villargeau is a much greater
sinner than I am."

Cardinal Mazarin sent him once to compliment the English Ambassador on
his arrival. When he reached the hotel, an Englishman said to him,
"Milord, il est pret; my ladi, il n'est pas pret, friselire ses chevaux,
prendre patience." The late King used to relate stories of this same
Boisrobert in a very whimsical manner.

The life which folks lead at Paris becomes daily more scandalous; I
really tremble for the city every time it thunders. Three ladies of
quality have just committed a monstrous imprudence. They have been
running after the Turkis