nd concurrence your wife intrigues with the king?"

"Ah, madam," answered the wily de Rumas, in a soft and expostulating
tone, "trouble not, I pray you, the repose of my family. I know too well
the virtue of madame de Rumas, her delicacy, and the severity of
her principles; I know too well likewise the sentiments in which her
excellent parents educated her, and I defy the blackest malice to injure
her in my estimation."

"Wonderfully, sir!" cried I; "so you determine to believe your wife's
virtue incorruptible, all the while you are profiting by her intrigues.
However, I am too certain of what I assert to look on with the culpable
indifference you are pleased to assume, whilst your _virtuous_ wife is
seeking to supplant me at the chateau; you shall hear of me before long.
Adieu, sir."

So saying, I quitted the room in search of the marechale, to whom I
related what had passed.

"And now, what think you of so base a hypocrite?" asked I, when I had
finished my account.

"He well deserves having the mask torn from his face," replied she; "but
give yourself no further concern; return home, and depend upon it, that,
one way or other, I will force him into the path of honor."

I accordingly ordered my carriage and returned to Versailles, where, on
the same evening, I received the following letter from the marechale:--

"MY DEAR COUNTESS,--My efforts have been attended with no better success
than yours. Well may the proverb say, 'There is none so deaf as he who
will not hear,' and M. de Rumas perseveres in treating all I advanced
respecting his wife as calumnious falsehoods. According to his version
of the tale, madame de Rumas has no other motive in seeing Louis XV
so frequently, but to implore his aid in favor of the poor in her
neighborhood. I really lost all patience when I heard him attempting
to veil his infamous conduct under the mask of charity; I therefore
proceeded at once to menaces, telling him that you had so many
advantages over his wife, that you scorned to consider her your rival:
but that, nevertheless, you did not choose that any upstart pretender
should dare ask to share his majesty's heart. To all this he made no
reply; and as the sight of him only increased my indignation, I at
length desired him to quit me. I trust you will pardon me for having
spoken in as queenlike a manner as you could have done yourself.

"Adieu, my sweet friend."

This letter was far from satisfying me, and I determined upo