t for this she might still have been admired
among our modest women, and Thuriot among fortunate husbands and happy
fathers; for the lady, for the first time since her marriage, proved, to
the great joy and pride of her husband, in the family way. Suspecting,
however, the fidelity of her paramour, she watched his motions so closely
that she discovered an intrigue between him and the chaste spouse of a
rich banker; but the consequence of this discovery was the detection of
her own crime.

On the discovery of this disgrace, Thuriot obtained an audience of
Bonaparte, in which he exposed his misfortune, and demanded punishment on
his wife's gallant. As, however, he also acknowledged that his own
indiscretion was an indirect cause of their connection, he received the
same advice which he had given to other unfortunate husbands: to retake,
and for the future guard better, his dear moiety.

Thuriot had, however, an early opportunity of wreaking his vengeance on
this gallant Rabais. It seems his prowess had reached the ears of Madame
Baciocchi, the eldest sister of Bonaparte. This lady has a children
mania, which is very troublesome to her husband, disagreeable to her
relations, and injurious to herself. She never beholds any lady,
particularly any of her family, in the way which women wish to be who
love their lords, but she is absolutely frantic. Now, Thuriot's worthy
friend Fouche had discovered, by his spies, that Rabais paid frequent and
secret visits to the hotel Baciocchi, and that Madame Baciocchi was the
object of these visits. Thuriot, on this discovery, instantly denounced
him to Bonaparte.

Had Rabais ruined all the women of this capital, he would not only have
been forgiven, but applauded by Napoleon, and his counsellors and
courtiers; but to dare to approach, or only to cast his eyes on one of
our Imperial Highnesses, was a crime nothing could extenuate or avenge,
but the most exemplary punishment. He was therefore arrested, sent to
the Temple, and has never since been heard of; so that his female friends
are still in the cruel uncertainty whether he has died on the rack, been
buried alive in the oubliettes, or is wandering an exile in the wilds of
Cayenne.

In examining his trunk, among the curious effects discovered by the
police were eighteen portraits and one hundred billets-doux, with
medallions, rings, bracelets, tresses of hair, etc., as numerous. Two of
the portraits occasioned much scandal, a