aved
citizen ought to be--can have anything to do with what is wicked or
condemnable. But, at all events, I distinctly feel that I never can
wear those jewels."

The Marquise considered that this was carrying scruples rather too far;
yet, when Mademoiselle Scuderi asked her to say, on her honour, what
she would do in her place, she replied, firmly and earnestly, "Far
rather throw them into the Seine than ever put them on."

The scene with Master Rene inspired Mademoiselle Scuderi to write some
pleasant verses, which she read to the King the following evening, at
Madame de Maintenon's. Perhaps, for the sake of the picturing of Master
Rene carrying off a bride of seventy-three--of unimpeachable
quarterings--it was that she succeeded in conquering her feelings of
the imminence of something mysterious and uncanny; but at all events
she did so, completely--and the King laughed with all his heart, and
vowed that Boileau Despreaux had met with his master. So La Scuderi's
poem was reckoned the very wittiest that ever was written.

Several months had elapsed, when chance so willed it that Mlle. Scuderi
was crossing the Pont Neuf in the glass coach of the Duchesse de
Montpensier. The invention of those delightful glass coaches was then
so recent that the people came together in crowds whenever one of them
made its appearance in the streets, consequently, a gaping crowd
gathered about the Duchesse's carriage on the Pont Neuf, so that the
horses could hardly make their way along. Suddenly Mlle. Scuderi heard
a sound of quarrelling and curses, and saw a man making a way for
himself through the crowd, by means of fisticuffs and blows in the
ribs, and as he came near they were struck by the piercing eyes of a
young face, deadly pale, and drawn by sorrow. This young man, gazing
fixedly upon them, vigorously fought his way to them by help of fists
and elbows, till he reached the carriage-door, threw it open with much
violence, and flung a note into Mademoiselle Scuderi's lap; after
which, he disappeared as he had come, distributing and receiving blows
and fisticuffs. La Martiniere, who was with her mistress, fell back
fainting in the carriage with a shriek of terror as soon as she saw the
young man. In vain Mademoiselle Scuderi pulled the string, and called
out to the driver. He, as if urged by the foul fiend, kept lashing his
horses till, scattering the foam from their nostrils, they kicked,
plunged, and reared, finally thundering o