I was tired of playing a wearisome part, and had left off going to see my lame friend, but she soon reproached me for my inconstancy, telling me that I had made a tool of her.  “I know all,” said this malicious woman, “and I will be avenged.”

“You cannot be avenged for nothing,” said I, “for I have never done you an injury.  However, if you intend to have me assassinated, I shall apply for police protection.”

“We don’t assassinate here,” said she, savagely.  “We are not Italians.”

I was delighted to be relieved from the burden of her society, and henceforth Madame was the sole object of my thoughts.  M. de Chavigni, who seemed to delight in serving me, made her husband believe that I was the only person who could get the Duc de Choiseul to pardon a cousin of his who was in the guards, and had had the misfortune to kill his man in a duel.  “This,” said the kindly old gentleman, “is the best way possible of gaining the friendship of your rival.  Do you think you can manage it?”

“I am not positive of success.”

“Perhaps I have gone a little too far; but I told him that by means of your acquaintance with the Duchesse de Grammont you could do anything with the minister.”

“I must make you a true prophet; I will do all I can.”

The consequence was that M.——­ informed me of the facts in the ambassador’s presence, and brought me all the papers relative to the case.

I spent the night in writing to the Duchesse de Grammont.  I made my letter as pathetic as possible, with a view to touching her heart, and then her father’s; and I then wrote to the worthy Madame d’Urfe telling her that the well-being of the sublime order of the Rosy Cross was concerned in the pardon of a Swiss officer, who had been obliged to leave the kingdom on account of a duel in which the order was highly concerned.

In the morning, after resting for an hour, I went to the ambassador, and shewed him the letter I had written to the duchess.  He thought it excellently expressed, and advised me to skew it to M.——­ I found him with his night-cap on; he was extremely grateful for the interest I took in a matter which was so near to his heart.  He told me that his wife had not yet risen, and asked me to wait and take breakfast with her.  I should have much liked to accept the invitation, but I begged him to make my excuses to his lady for my absence, on the pretence that I had to finish my letters, and hand them to the courier who was just leaving.  I hoped in this way to scatter any jealousy that might be hovering in his brain, by the slight importance I attached to a meeting with his wife.

I went to dine with M. de Chavigni, who thought my conduct had been very politic, and said that he was certain that henceforth M.——­ would be my best friend.  He then skewed me a letter from Voltaire thanking him for playing Montrose in his Ecossaise; and another from the Marquis de Chauvelin, who was then at Delices with the philosopher of Ferney.  He promised to come and see him after he had been to Turin, where he had been appointed ambassador.