at at one moment we heard that His Majesty was dead, at another that
the wound was skin deep, and again that we might expect him at Meudon
before sunset. The rumour that the Duchess de Montpensier had taken
poison was no sooner believed than we were asked to listen to the guns
of Paris firing FEUX DE JOIE in honour of the King's death.

The streets were so closely packed with persons telling and hearing
these tales that I seemed from my window to be looking on a fair. Nor
was all my amusement withoutdoors; for a number of the gentlemen of the
Court, hearing that I had been at St. Cloud in the morning, and in the
very chamber, a thing which made me for the moment the most desirable
companion in the world, remembered on a sudden that they had a slight
acquaintance with me, and honoured me by calling upon me and sitting
a great part of the day with me. From which circumstance I confess I
derived as much hope as they diversion; knowing that courtiers are the
best weather-prophets in the world, who hate nothing so much as to be
discovered in the company of those on whom the sun does not shine.

The return of the King of Navarre, which happened about the middle of
the afternoon, while it dissipated the fears of some and dashed the
hopes of others, put an end to this state of uncertainty by confirming,
to the surprise of many, that His Majesty was in no danger. We learned
with varying emotions that the first appearances, which had deceived,
not myself only, but experienced leeches, had been themselves belied by
subsequent conditions; and that, in a word, Paris had as much to fear,
and loyal men as much to hope, as before this wicked and audacious
attempt.

I had no more than stomached this surprising information, which was less
welcome to me, I confess, than it should have been, when the arrival of
M. d'Agen, who greeted me with the affection which he never failed to
show me, distracted my thoughts for a time. Immediately on learning
where I was and, the strange adventures which had befallen me he had
ridden off; stopping only once, when he had nearly reached me, for the
purpose of waiting on Madame de Bruhl. I asked him how she had received
him.

'Like herself,' he replied with an ingenuous blush. 'More kindly than I
had a right to expect, if not as warmly as I had the courage to hope.'

'That will come with time,' I said, laughing. 'And Mademoiselle de la
Vire?'

'I did not see her,' he answered, 'but I heard she was w