hat was a trifle, and that he ought not to let it
embitter his last moments, but he begged so piteously that he got them
to promise that they should be sent for.

The count thought it was some trifling irregularity, some
misappropriation in the house accounts; and fearing to hasten the death
of the sufferer by the shame of the confession of a fault, he sent word
that he heartily forgave him, that he might die tranquil, and refused to
see him. Baulieu expired, taking his secret with him. This happened in
1648.

The child was then seven years old. His charming manners grew with his
age, and the count and countess felt their love for him increase. They
caused him to be taught dancing and fencing, put him into breeches and
hose, and a page's suit of their livery, in which capacity he served
them. The marquis turned his attack to this quarter. He was doubtless
preparing some plot as criminal as the preceding, when justice overtook
him for some other great crimes of which he had been guilty. He
was arrested one day in the street when conversing with one of the
Saint-Geran footmen, and taken to the Conciergerie of the Palace of
Justice.

Whether owing to these occurrences, or to grounds for suspicion before
mentioned, certain reports spread in the Bourbonnais embodying some
of the real facts; portions of them reached the ears of the count and
countess, but they had only the effect of renewing their grief without
furnishing a clue to the truth.

Meanwhile, the count went to take the waters at Vichy. The countess
and Madame de Bouille followed him, and there they chanced to encounter
Louise Goillard, the midwife. This woman renewed her acquaintance with
the house, and in particular often visited the Marchioness de Bouille.
One day the countess, unexpectedly entering the marchioness's room,
found them both conversing in an undertone. They stopped talking
immediately, and appeared disconcerted.

The countess noticed this without attaching any importance to it, and
asked the subject of their conversation.

"Oh, nothing," said the marchioness.

"But what is it?" insisted the countess, seeing that she blushed.

The marchioness, no longer able to evade the question, and feeling her
difficulties increase, replied--

"Dame Louise is praising my brother for bearing no ill-will to her."

"Why?" said the countess, turning to the midwife,--"why should you fear
any ill-will on the part of my husband?"

"I was afraid," said Loui