s wife had the power to keep me at
Aix. I replied that it was an easy task for her, and a "bravo" was all he
answered.

The chevalier was one of those men who prefer to pass for good-natured
than foolish husbands. His wife took my arm, and we left him in his room
while we proceeded to the fountain. On the way she said she would be
alone the next day, and that she would no longer indulge her curiosity in
my nocturnal excursions.

"Oh! it is you who have had me followed, is it?"

"No, it is I who followed you, but to no effect. However, I did not think
you were so wicked. You frightened me dreadfully! Do you know, sir, you
might have killed me if your shot had not luckily missed."

"I missed on purpose, dearest; for though I did not suspect that it was
you, I fired in the air, feeling certain that that would be enough to
scare off the spies."

"You won't be troubled with them any more."

"If they like to follow me, perhaps I shall let them, for my walk is
quite innocent. I am always back by ten."

While we were at table we saw a travelling carriage and six horses drawn
up. It was the Marquis de Prie, with a Chevalier de St. Louis and two
charming ladies, of whom one, as the Zeroli hastened to inform me, was
the Marquis's mistress. Four places were laid, and while the newcomers
were waiting to be served, they were told the story of my bet with the
Englishman.

The marquis congratulated me, telling me that he had not hoped to find me
at Aix on his return; and here Madame Zeroli put in her word, and said
that if it had not been for her he would not have seen me again. I was
getting used to her foolish talk, and I could only agree with a good
grace, which seemed to delight her intensely although her husband was
present, but he seemed to share her triumph.

The marquis said that he would make a little bank for me, and feeling
obliged to accept I soon lost a hundred louis. I went to my room to write
some letters, and at twilight I set out to see my nun.

"What news have you?"

"The lay-sister is dead, and she is to be buried tomorrow. To-morrow is
the day we were to have returned to the convent. This is the letter I am
sending to the abbess. She will dispatch another laysister, unless she
orders the country-woman to bring me back to the convent."

"What did the priest say?"

"He said the lay-sister died of a cerebral lethargy, which super-induced
an attack of apoplexy."

"Very good, very good."

"I want him