ettier, Javotte, has been
briefly described above. She is the daughter of a rich attorney, and
has, before her emancipation and elopement, two suitors, both
advocates; the one, Nicodeme, young, handsome, well dressed, and a great
flirt, but feather-headed; the other, Bedout, a middle-aged sloven,
collector, and at the same time miser, but very well off. The second
heroine, Lucrece, is also handsome, though rather less so than Javotte:
but she has plenty of wits. She is, however, in an unfortunate position,
being an orphan with no fortune, and living with an uncle and aunt, the
latter of whom has a passion for gaming, and keeps open house for it, so
that Lucrece sees rather undesirable society. Despite her wits, she
falls a victim to a rascally marquis, who first gives her a written
promise of marriage, and afterwards, by one of the dirtiest tricks ever
imagined by a novelist--a trick which, strange to say, the present
writer does not remember to have seen in any other book, obvious though
it is--steals it.[260] Fortunately for her, Nicodeme, who is of her
acquaintance, and a general lover, has also given her, though not in
earnest and for no serious "consideration," a similar promise: and by
the help of a busybody legal friend she gets 2000 crowns out of him to
prevent an action for breach. And, finally, Bedout, after displacing the
unlucky Nicodeme (thus left doubly in the cold), and being himself
thrown over by Javotte's elopement, takes to wife, being induced to do
so by a cousin, Lucrece herself, in blissful ignorance (which is never
removed) of her past. The cousin, Laurence, has also been the link of
these parts of the tale with an episode of _precieuse_ society in which
the above-mentioned inset is told; a fourth feminine character,
Hyppolyte (_vice_ Philipote), of some individuality, is introduced;
Javotte makes a greater fool of herself than ever; and her future
seducer, Pancrace, makes his appearance.

Thus reduced to "argument" form, the story may seem even more modern
than it really is, and the censures, apologies, etc., put forward above
may appear rather unjust. But few people will continue to think so
after reading the book. The materials, especially with the "trimmings"
to be mentioned presently, would have made a very good novel of the
completest kind. But, once more, the time had not come, though Furetiere
was, however unconsciously, doing his best to bring it on. One fault,
not quite so easy to define