the gentleman, sure of not being over-credulous, mixed with the crowd with little and noiseless steps, like an innocent who is afraid of venturing into one of those good places people call bad ones.  And whether he walked behind or in front, to the right or to the left, my lady bestowed upon him a glistening glance to allure him the more and the better to draw him to her, like a fisher who gently jerks the lines in order to hook the gudgeon.  To be brief:  the countess practiced so well the profession of the daughters of pleasure when they work to bring grist into their mills, that one would have said nothing resembled a harlot so much as a woman of high birth.  And indeed, on arriving at the porch of her hotel the countess hesitated to enter therein, and again turned her face towards the poor chevalier to invite him to accompany her, discharging at him so diabolical a glance, that he ran to the queen of his heart, believing himself to be called by her.  Thereupon, she offered him her hand, and both boiling and trembling from the contrary causes found themselves inside the house.  At this wretched hour, Madame d’Armagnac was ashamed of having done all these harlotries to the profit of death, and of betraying Savoisy the better to save him; but this slight remorse was lame as the greater, and came tardily.  Seeing everything ready, the countess leaned heavily upon her vassal’s arm, and said to him—­

“Come quickly to my room; it is necessary that I should speak with you.”

And he, not knowing that his life was in peril, found no voice wherewith to reply, so much did the hope of approaching happiness choke him.

When the laundress saw this handsome gentleman so quickly hooked, “Ah!” said she, “these ladies of the court are best at such work.”  Then she honoured this courtier with a profound salutation, in which was depicted the ironical respect due to those who have the great courage to die for so little.

“Picard,” said the constable’s lady, drawing the laundress to her by the skirt, “I have not the courage to confess to him the reward with which I am about to pay his silent love and his charming belief in the loyalty of women.”

“Bah!  Madame:  why tell him?  Send him away well contented by the postern.  So many men die in war for nothing, cannot this one die for something?  I’ll produce another like him if that will console you.”

“Come along,” cried the countess, “I will confess all to him.  That will be the punishment for my sins.”

Thinking that this lady was arranging with her servant certain trifling provisions and secret things in order not to be disturbed in the interview she had promised him, the unknown lover kept at a discreet distance, looking at the flies.  Nevertheless, he thought that the countess was very bold, but also, as even a hunchback would have done, he found a thousand reasons to justify her, and thought himself quite worthy to inspire such recklessness.  He was lost in those good thoughts when the constable’s wife opened the door of her chamber, and invited the chevalier to follow her in.  There his noble lady cast aside all the apparel of her lofty fortune, and falling at the feet of this gentleman, became a simple woman.