owards his own, saw, at the end
of the corridor, a mysterious looking individual closely wrapped in a
large cloak, with one end thrown over the shoulder in Spanish fashion,
and so drawn up round his face that only the eyes were visible; a slouch
hat concealed his forehead, so that he was completely disguised, yet he
drew back hurriedly into a dark corner when de Sigognac turned towards
him, as if to avoid his notice. The baron knew that the comedians had
all gone to their rooms already, and besides, it could not be one of
them, for the tyrant was much larger and taller, the pedant a great
deal stouter, Leander more slender, Matamore much thinner, and Scapin of
quite a different make. Not wishing to appear curious, or to annoy the
unknown in any way, de Sigognac hastened to enter his own room--not
however without having observed that the door of the tapestry-hung
chamber stood ajar. When he had closed his, he heard stealthy footsteps
approaching, and presently a bolt shot home softly, then profound
silence.

About an hour later, Leander opened his door as quietly as possible,
looked carefully to see if the corridor was empty, and then, stepping
as lightly and cautiously as a gipsy performing the famous egg-dance,
traversed its whole length, reached the staircase, which he descended as
noiselessly as the phantoms in a haunted castle, and passed out into the
moonlight; he crept along in the shadow of the wall and of some thick
shrubbery, went down the steps into the park, and made his way to a sort
of bower, where stood a charming statue of the mischievous little god of
love, with his finger on his lip--an appropriate presiding genius of
a secret rendezvous, as this evidently must be. Here he stopped and
waited, anxiously watching the path by which he had come, and listening
intently to catch the first sound of approaching footsteps.

We have already related how Leander, encouraged by the smile with which
Mme. la Marquise acknowledged his salutation, and convinced that she was
smitten with his beauty and grace, had made bold to address a letter
to her, which he bribed Jeanne to place secretly upon her mistress's
toilet-table, where she would be sure to see it. This letter we copy
here at length, so as to give an idea of the style of composition
employed by Leander in addressing the great ladies of whose favours he
boasted so loudly.

"Madame, or rather fair goddess of beauty, do not blame anything but
your own incompara