t probably
been distributed among the poor of Paris. De Gourville protested in
vain, and when he threatened to resort to forcible means, the power
of the church was invoked to compel him to abandon his attempt. So
cruelly disappointed in a man whom all Paris deemed incorruptibly
honest, de Gourville suspected nothing else from Mademoiselle de
l'Enclos. It was absurd to hope for probity in a woman of
reprehensible habits when that virtue was absent in a man who lived a
life of such austerity as the Grand Penitencier, hence he determined
to abstain from visiting her altogether, lest he might hate the woman
he had so fondly loved.

Ninon, however, had other designs, and learning that he had returned,
sent him a pressing invitation to call upon her.

"Ah! Gourville," she exclaimed as soon as he appeared, "a great
misfortune has happened me in consequence of your absence."

That settled the matter in de Gourville's mind, his money was gone and
he was a pauper. Plunged in mournful reflections, de Gourville dared
not raise his eyes to those of his mistress. But she, mistaking his
agitation, went on hastily:

"I am sorry if you still love me, for I have lost my love for you, and
though I have found another with whom I am happy, I have not forgotten
you. Here," she continued, turning to her escritoire, "here are the
twenty thousand crowns you intrusted to me when you departed. Take
them, my friend, but do not ask anything from a heart which is no
longer disposed in your favor. There is nothing left but the most
sincere friendship."

Astonished at the contrast between her conduct and that of her
reverend co-depositary, and recognizing that he had no right to
complain of the change in her heart because of his long absence, de
Gourville related the story of the indignity heaped upon him by a man
of so exalted a character and reputation.

"You do not surprise me," said Ninon, with a winning smile, "but you
should not have suspected me on that account. The prodigious
difference in our reputations and conditions should have taught you
that." Then adding with a twinkle in her eye: "Ne suis-je pas la
gardeuse de la cassette?"

Ninon was afterward called "La belle gardeuse de cassette," and
Voltaire, whose vigilance no anecdote of this nature could escape, has
made it, with some variations, the subject of a comedy, well known to
every admirer of the French drama, under the name of "La Depositaire."

Ninon had her preferences,