s, and as soon as that was done Gaston Cheverny
set out upon his errand.

CHAPTER XX

FORGING THE CHAIN

In November we went into winter quarters. I was much in hopes that
Count Saxe would remain in Strasburg the whole winter, but the women
in Paris would not let him. They besieged the king to send for Count
Saxe; they nearly worried Dangervilliers, the minister of war, into a
madhouse, demanding that he order Count Saxe to Paris. Cardinal Fleury
declared that his days would be shortened by the importunate ones, who
implored him for Count Saxe. Is it any wonder, I say, that Count Saxe
was no anchorite with all this adulation and flattery bestowed upon
him--with women throwing themselves at his head and at his feet? He
went to Paris.

We reached Paris in January and remained until May. It was an
unusually tedious time for me, because I had not Gaston Cheverny with
me. There was but little for me to do. My master wrote his own love
letters--he had few others to write--so that I had many hours at my
disposal. There was a young baggage of an actress named Verieres, who
tried to play the poor lost Adrienne Lecouvreur's part to Count Saxe.
I know not whether she succeeded or not.

I heard several times from Gaston Cheverny. He was still in Poland,
over the border first of East Prussia and then of Russia, traveling
from place to place, following the instructions of the Duke of
Berwick. Every month he expected to be allowed to join his regiment,
but something more was always found for him to do. He was promised,
however, that he should not be detained in Poland longer than the
first month of the campaign.

The campaign, however, was unusually late in opening. Marshal, the
Duke of Berwick, reached Strasburg in March, but found everything in
confusion. Luckily, the enemy was in no better case than we. It was
May before it became necessary for Count Saxe to start for the Rhine.

We traveled by way of Brussels, and I made a request of Count Saxe
which had been burning in my heart all the winter. It was that I might
stop, if only for a night, at the chateau of Capello. To this, as the
most indulgent of masters, he readily agreed.

It was on a May day, in 1734, that I saw the chateau of Capello, after
four years of absence. It was late in the afternoon, and the shadows
were long in the boscages of the park and upon the fresh green
terraces of the chateau. As I drew near I looked toward the Italian
garden, and there