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 incomparable charms for this intrusion upon you.  I am forced by their radiance to emerge from the deep shadow in which I should remain shrouded, and approach their dazzling brilliancy—­just as the dolphins are attracted from the depths of ocean, by the brightness of the fisherman’s lanterns, though they are, alas! to find destruction there, and perish by the sharp harpoons hurled pitilessly at them with unerring aim.  I know but too well that the waves will be reddened by my blood; but as I cannot live without your favour, I do not fear to meet death thus.  It may be strangely audacious, on my part to pretend to the privileges of gods and demi-gods—­to die by your fair hand—­but I dare to aspire to it; being already in despair, nothing worse can come to me, and I would rather incur your wrath than your scorn, or your disdain.  In order to direct the fatal blow aright, the executioner must look upon his victim, and I shall have, in yielding up my life under your fair, cruel hand, the supreme delight of being for one blissful moment the object of your regard.  Yes, I love you, madame!  I adore you!  And if it be a crime, I cannot repent of it.  God suffers himself to be adored; the stars receive the admiration of the humblest shepherd; it is the fate of all such lofty perfection as yours to, be beloved, adored, only by inferior beings, since it has not its equal upon earth, nor scarcely indeed in heaven.  I, alas! am but a poor, wandering actor, yet were I a haughty duke or prince, my head would not be on a level with your beauteous feet, and there would be, all the same, between your heavenly height and my kneeling adoration, as great a distance as from the soaring summit of the loftiest Alp to the yawning abyss far, far below.  You must always stoop to reach a heart that adores you.  I dare to say, madame, that mine is as proud as it is tender, and she who would deign not to repulse it, would find in it the most ardent love, the most perfect delicacy, the most absolute respect, and unbounded devotion.  Besides, if such divine happiness be accorded me, your indulgence would not have to stoop so low as you might fancy.  Though reduced by an adverse destiny and the jealous hatred of one of the great ones of the earth, who must be nameless, to the dire necessity of hiding myself under this disguise, I am not what I seem.  I do not need to blush for my birth—­rather I