M. d’Argenson picked a quarrel with M. de Richelieu, after his victory, about his return to Paris.  This was intended to prevent his coming to enjoy his triumph.  He tried to throw the thing upon Madame de Pompadour, who was enthusiastic about him, and called him by no other name than the “Minorcan.”  The Chevalier de Montaign was the favourite of the Dauphin, and much beloved by him for his great devotion.  He fell ill, and underwent an operation called ‘l’empieme’, which is performed by making an incision between the ribs, in order to let out the pus; it had, to all appearance, a favourable result, but the patient grew worse, and could not breathe.  His medical attendants could not conceive what occasioned this accident and retarded his cure.  He died almost in the arms of the Dauphin, who went every day to see him.  The singularity of his disease determined the surgeons to open the body, and they found, in his chest, part of the leaden syringe with which decoctions had, as was usual, been injected into the part in a state of suppuration.  The surgeon, who committed this act of negligence, took care not to boast of his feat, and his patient was the victim.  This incident was much talked of by the King, who related it, I believe, not less than thirty times, according to his custom; but what occasioned still more conversation about the Chevalier de Montaign, was a box, found by his bed’s side, containing haircloths, and shirts, and whips, stained with blood.  This circumstance was spoken of one evening at supper, at Madame de Pompadour’s, and not one of the guests seemed at all tempted to imitate the Chevalier.  Eight or ten days afterwards, the following tale was sent to the King, to Madame de Pompadour, to the Baschi, and to the Duc d’Ayen.  At first nobody could understand to what it referred:  at last, the Duc d’Ayen exclaimed, “How stupid we are; this is a joke on the austerities of the Chevalier de Montaign!” This appeared clear enough—­so much the more so, as the copies were sent to the Dauphin, the Dauphine, the Abbe de St. Cyr, and to the Duc de V—–.  The latter had the character of a pretender to devotion, and, in his copy, there was this addition, “You would not be such a fool, my dear Duke, as to be a ’faquir’—­confess that you would be very glad to be one of those good monks who lead such a jolly life.”  The Duc de Richelieu was suspected of having employed one of his wits to write the story.  The King was scandalised at it, and ordered the Lieutenant of Police to endeavour to find out the author, but either he could not succeed or he would not betray him.

Japanese Tale.