, with a wicked grin, "of
making a new comedy--something on the order of a roaring farce. Count
Saxe's expedition to Courland will make excellent material. First act:
Count Saxe going forth with Captain Babache and three hundred Uhlans,
to conquer the universe. Second act: Count Saxe conquering the
universe and getting clapped into a closet in the Grand Duchess Anna
Iwanowna's palace at Mitau, where, I hear, she and her waiting maids
and a little dog kept him prisoner for a month, from whence Peggy
Kirkpatrick at last released him. Third act: Count Saxe arrives in
Paris. Is sent for to relate his adventures to his Majesty. Majesty
weeps--that is to say, laughs until he cries. Count Saxe begs to be
sent to the Bastille until the town is done laughing at him. Majesty
cruelly refuses. Count Saxe threatens to kill himself, and goes and
eats a couple of cold fowls. Epilogue: spoken by Babache in the
character of Bombastes Furioso. Messieurs, you will see that I am a
prophet."

"Monsieur, if you are a prophet," I replied, near choking with
chagrin, "you may recall your own definition of a prophet. When the
first knave met the first fool, then there was the first prophet!"

There was laughter at that, but greater laughter still when Monsieur
Voltaire proceeded to inform the crowd that Mademoiselle Lecouvreur
had taught Count Saxe all he knew, except war, of which no one could
teach him anything, and spelling, which he never could learn. He also
chose to quote my master as saying that in his youth he was exactly
like the devil, as he always learned what he was not told to learn;
and the people present continued to laugh uproariously. They were of
that class of persons who would have laughed just as readily at
Monsieur Voltaire had my master been there to hang the notary's son on
the peg where he belonged.

In the midst of it the door to Mademoiselle Lecouvreur's room opened,
and she herself softly called me to her. I went, still smarting at the
laughter and the heartless banter of those Paris people who thought it
fine to laugh at Monsieur Voltaire's gibes at Count Saxe. Oh, what I
have not suffered for my master through that upstart son of a notary!
And yet, I can not deny that the fellow had great parts and shining
wit!

Mademoiselle Lecouvreur bade me to tell Count Saxe to come to her
house after the theater. With her usual goodness she asked concerning
my health and welfare. No gentler, kinder heart ever beat than
Mad