ians were all
agreed. The count kept one of these physicians in the chateau for two
months, and spoke to the Marquis of Saint-Maixent of his intention
of procuring a good mid-wife, on the same terms. Finally, the
dowager countess, who was to be sponsor, ordered at a great expense a
magnificent store of baby linen, which she desired to present at the
birth.

The marchioness devoured her rage, and among the persons who went beside
themselves with joy not one remarked the disappointment which overspread
her soul. Every day she saw the marquis, who did all he could to
increase her regret, and incessantly stirred up her ill-humour
by repeating that the count and countess were triumphing over her
misfortune, and insinuating that they were importing a supposititious
child to disinherit her. As usual both in private and political affairs,
he began by corrupting the marchioness's religious views, to pervert
her into crime. The marquis was one of those libertines so rare at that
time, a period less unhappy than is generally believed, who made science
dependent upon atheism. It is remarkable that great criminals of this
epoch, Sainte-Croix for instance, and Exili, the gloomy poisoner,
were the first unbelievers, and that they preceded the learned of the
following age both in philosophy and in the exclusive study of physical
science, in which they included that of poisons. Passion, interest,
hatred fought the marquis's battles in the heart of Madame de Bouille;
she readily lent herself to everything that M. de Saint-Maixent wished.

The Marquis de Saint-Maixent had a confidential servant, cunning,
insolent, resourceful, whom he had brought from his estates, a servant
well suited to such a master, whom he sent on errands frequently into
the neighbourhood of Saint-Geran.

One evening, as the marquis was about to go to bed, this man, returning
from one of his expeditions, entered his room, where he remained for a
long time, telling him that he had at length found what he wanted,
and giving him a small piece of paper which contained several names of
places and persons.

Next morning, at daybreak, the marquis caused two of his horses to
be saddled, pretended that he was summoned home on pressing business,
foresaw that he should be absent for three or four days, made his
excuses to the count, and set off at full gallop, followed by his
servant.

They slept that night at an inn on the road to Auvergne, to put off
the scent any pers