in five minutes the count came out and said the countess had just
been happily delivered. The dean looked as if a weight had been taken off
his mind; however, he took the precaution of having himself blooded.

I spent an extremely pleasant four months at Augsburg, supping twice or
thrice a week at Count Lamberg's. At these suppers I made the
acquaintance of a very remarkable man--Count Thura and Valsamina, then a
page in the prince-bishop's household, now Dean of Ratisbon. He was
always at the count's, as was also Dr. Algardi, of Bologna, the prince's
physician and a delightful man.

I often saw at the same house a certain Baron Sellenthin, a Prussian
officer, who was always recruiting for his master at Augsburg. He was a
pleasant man, somewhat in the Gascon style, soft-spoken, and an expert
gamester. Five or six years ago I had a letter from him dated Dresden, in
which he said that though he was old, and had married a rich wife, he
repented of having married at all. I should say the same if I had ever
chanced to marry.

During my stay at Augsburg several Poles, who had left their country on
account of the troubles, came to see me. Amongst others was Rzewuski, the
royal Prothonotary, whom I had known at St. Petersburg as the lover of
poor Madame Langlade.

"What a diet! What plots! What counterplots! What misfortunes!" said this
honest Pole, to me. "Happy are they who have nothing to do with it!"

He was going to Spa, and he assured me that if I followed him I should
find Prince Adam's sister, Tomatis, and Madame Catai, who had become the
manager's wife. I determined to go to Spa, and to take measures so that I
might go there with three or four hundred ducats in my purse. To this
intent I wrote to Prince Charles of Courland, who was at Venice, to send
me a hundred ducats, and in my letter I gave him an infallible receipt
for the philosopher's stone. The letter containing this vast secret was
not in cypher, so I advised him to burn it after he had read it, assuring
him that I possessed a copy. He did not do so, and it was taken to Paris
with his order papers when he was sent to the Bastile.

If it had not been for the Revolution my letter would never have seen the
light. When the Bastille was destroyed, my letter was found and printed
with other curious compositions, which were afterwards translated into
German and English. The ignorant fools that abound in the land where my
fate wills that I should write down the