chronicled by books of her composition. Les
Demons, poem Catholic; Charles IX. is the hero and the demons are shot
for the most part at the catastrophe of St. Bartholomew. My good mother,
all good Catholic as she is, was startled by the boldness of this
doctrine. Then there came Une Dragonnade, par Mme. la Duchesse d'Ivry,
which is all on your side. That was of the time of the Pastor Grigou,
that one. The last was Les Dieux dechus, poeme en 20 chants, par Mme. la
D---- d'I. Guard yourself well from this Muse! If she takes a fancy to
you she will never leave you alone. If you see her often, she will fancy
you are in love with her, and tell her husband. She always tells my
uncle--afterwards--after she has quarrelled with you and grown tired
of you! Eh, being in London once, she had the idea to make herself
a Quakre; wore the costume, consulted a minister of that culte, and
quarrelled with him as of rule. It appears the Quakers do not beat
themselves, otherwise my poor uncle must have paid of his person.

"The turn of the philosophers then came, the chemists, the natural
historians, what know I? She made a laboratory in her hotel, and
rehearsed poisons like Madame de Brinvilliers--she spent hours in the
Jardin des Plantes. Since she has grown affreusenent maigre and wears
mounting robes, she has taken more than ever to the idea that she
resembles Mary Queen of Scots. She wears a little frill and a little
cap. Every man she loves, she says, has come to misfortune. She calls
her lodgings Lochleven. Eh! I pity the landlord of Lochleven! She calls
ce gros Blackball, vous savez, that pillar of estaminets, that prince of
mauvais-ton, her Bothwell; little Mijaud, the poor little pianist, she
named her Rizzio; young Lord Greenhorn who was here with governor,
a Monsieur of Oxfort, she christened her Darnley, and the Minister
Anglican, her John Knox! The poor man was quite enchanted! Beware of
this haggard siren, my little Clive!--mistrust her dangerous song! Her
cave is jonchee with the bones of her victims. Be you not one!"

Far from causing Clive to avoid Madame la Duchesse, these cautions very
likely would have made him only the more eager to make her acquaintance,
but that a much nobler attraction drew him elsewhere. At first, being
introduced to Madame d'Ivry's salon, he was pleased and flattered, and
behaved himself there merrily and agreeably enough. He had not studied
Horace Vernet for nothing; he drew a fine picture of Ke