I pray you, my wife, rise, and embrace me! || forgiven you; I have told you of it, and I see Marchioness, rise! you are not in your place: that you will not believe it." "I never can Madame d'Arcis, rise up!" believe it," replied she.-The Marquis added, "in truth, I believe I never shall have cause to repent it, and that this Pommeraye, instead of avenging herself, has done me an essential service. My dear, go and dress yourself, while your servants are employed in packing up your trunks. We will set off for my estate, where we shall live till we can return here without any unpleasant consequence to you or to myself."

Whilst he thus spoke to her, she concealed her face with her hands, and rested her head || upon the knees of the Marquis; but, at the word, "My wife!" At the name of Madame d'Arcis! she suddenly sprang up, and threw herself upon the Marquis; she held him in her embrace, half suffocated with grief and joy; she then tore herself from him; threw herself upon the ground, and kissed his feet. "Ah!" said the Marquis to her, "I have

THE CIRCASSIAN SLAVE.
[Continued from Page 31.]

ACCORDING to the intention which we intimated in our last Number, we proceed with the extracts from the letters of this interesting female.

The authenticity of the following anecdote is attested in a note by Voltaire :

lution, fearful lest he should otherwise be recognized by his scholars, and conceiving that at his time of life nobody could be surprized at his not being dressed after the newest fashion. On his well-trimmed head he put a stiff, high cap; a prodigious ruff incircled his neck; his hairy arms protruded from wide hanging sleeves; and broad furbelows decorated his tucked-up gown. In this attire he planted himself with great glee in one of the most

"A Canon of the church of Notre Dame, highly respected for his piety and exemplary life, a Jansenist not less feared by the Molinists than beloved by the Archbishop of Paris, could not at the age of seventy, sup-conspicuous places in the theatre. His gropress a desire to go for once to the play. He had often declared to his friends that he would not die before he had seen what was daily the subject of so much conversation and praise; but they paid no regard to this, thinking him only in jest. His valet sometimes asked him what he intended to do with some antiquated habiliments which had belonged to his grandmother, and which for many years he had kept carefully laid by. He always replied, that he should very likely find use for them some time or other. His desires to go to the play having arisen to the highest pitch, he communicated to this valet, on whose discretion he could rely, his intention of visiting the theatre, in the dis- || guise of his own grandmother. His servant begged him, for heaven's sake, to abandon such an idea, and represented to him, that the dress which he designed to wear was so extremely old-fashioned, that it could not fail to attract every eye in the theatre; that, on the contrary, if he went in his usual dress, he would scarcely be noticed, as the theatre swarmed with Abbés. All his remonstrances were vain; the eld gentleman obstinately persisted in his reso

tesque figure excited a general whisper, a gene-
ral laugh. Armand, who acted Harlequin, per-
ceiving the cause of this, went to him and
whispered: Sir, you are known. I advise
you to sound a retreat.
Your extraordinary
dress causes such universal laughter that I
am apprehensive of something still more un-
pleasant.' The terror-struck Canon thanked
him for his advice, and requested the Harle
quin to assist him to escape.
Follow me,'
said Armand, clearing a way for him, but in
such haste (for he expected every moment to
be wanted on the stage) that the corpulent
grand mamma could not come
lost sight of the conductor,
difficulty to reach the door,
cheers and hootings of the pit. So far all was
pretty well; the poor Canon likewise found
the staircase, but unfortunately it branched off
into two, and instead of keeping to the right,
which led to the street, he turned to the left,
arrived at the apartment where an officer of
the police was accustomed to attend. No
sooner did the latter fix his eyes on the ex-
traordinary figure, which quaked for fear, than
he immediately discovered it to be a man in

up with him,

and had great amidst the loud

On a table near the feigned to be asleep. hed lay a pair of pistols, and beside them the gold watch and seal of his guest. The son awoke, trembled, and attempted to escape. The father, transported with indignation, seized one of the pistols, fired, and shot his son through the head. He immediately delivered himself up to the officers of police. Every

disguise, and conducted the unfortunate | Canon to the Licatenaut of the Police. To no purpose did he relate the whole adventure, im piore his discharge with tears, and even offer || a hundred Louis-d'ors for his release: the, officer who had never yet resisted the tempta tion of gold, could not now deay himself the pleasure of rigidly fulfilling his duty. The Lieutenant of Police was a zealous Molinist, || body is persuaded that he will be pardoned; aud happened just at that time to have company: highly delighted with the accident, be ordered grand-mamma to be introduced; gave | her a severe reprimand, and called her without mercy by her proper name. The consequence was that the curious old man was banished to the distance of forty leagues from Paris. So dearly did he pay for his short acquaint- || ance with Monsieur Harlequin

for an honest father who finds a highwayman in his son, ought not to be judged by the laws that are applicable to other cases."

"Two things are just now the order of the day here (at Paris); in the first place, the Married Philosopher, a new comedy by Des touches, which is said to exhibit his own history, and for the eleventh representation of which all the boxes are already bespoken; se condly, the cutting out of coloured prints, which is practised with all the symptoms of a real mania. Every body cuts out, from the highest to be lowest. These pictures are stuck upon pasteboard and varnished. In this manmer people make tapestry, fire-screens, bedscreens, &c. and thus also ladies of quality destroy prints that cost one or two hundred livres a piece. If this rage continues we shall presently have them cutting out Ra placi's pictures."

"The Duke of Gesvres is indisposed. He is gone to St. Ouen, and all France is walking, riding, or driving thither to visit him. He lies on a bed decorated with lace and ribbons. The curtains are drawn back, the bed is strewed with flowers, aud in this manner he receives every body. Twenty courtiers sur round him, and his father and brother per Two tables and some form the honours. times three, each of twenty covers, are con

Another recent circumstance, but of a more tragic nature, is as follows:-A gentle man from the environs of Villers Coterct, travelling on horseback, attended by a servant, Mus, attacked in a wood by a young man, who robbed him of his purse, his watch, with a gold scal, and both his horses, leaving him behind in great embarrassment. Pursuing his journey on foot, he at length discovered a handsome house at a distance, and seat his scrvant to inquire by whom it was inhabited. || To his great satisfaction he learned that it be longed to an old friend of his, an officer with whom he had served many years. This comrade, a hearty old man, received him in the most cordial maurer, lamented the misfortune that had befallen bin, and offered hin his parse. A few minutes before supper, a young Ban entered the room, and was introduced by the officer as his son to his guest. The latter immediatey recognized in him the person by wim he had been robbed. He was suffistautly prepared. A kind of uniform for eiently master of bimeif to keep silence. After supper he immediately repaired to his chamber. His servant came to him, with the greatest terror in his looks. Sir,' said be, we are in a suspicious place; our horses are in the stable below.' The gentleman en joined him not to mention a syllable of the matter; and when all the inhabitants of the house had retired to rest, be softly proceeded with his candle to the bed-chamber of his friend, waked hun, and communicated this unpleasant discovery.

My heart bleeds,'

said he, that I should be obliged to give you this intelligence; but it is better that you receive it from me than from the policeofficers' The poor old man was so shocked that he fainted Resigning himself, when he recovered to the viclence of his feeling, he hurried to the chamber of his son, who either was, or

|

the complaisant guests has been introduced: it consists of a green coat, green stockings, green shoes, and green hat. Upwards of thirty of these uniforms have been distributed, and every person in this dress is allowed to enter at any time without any ceremony. The King laughed at this whim, and observed, that he could almost fancy himself in La Charité, where all the attendants are dressed in green. A few days since one of my acquaintance was there; he found the Duke sitting on a green sofa, in a green morning-gown, bis feet resting on a green carpet, a green hat, with a green feather on his head,and a large bunch of rue at hisbreast. The Duke d'Esperon has a different kind of bobby-horse: he is determined to act the part of a surgeon. He bleeds and trepans every body that falls in his way. A coachman lately fractured his skull. The Duke trepanned him,

probably according to all the rules of a
the unlucky wight nevertheless died. Another
time he thought proper to give a rural fête. The
spruce Duke de Gesvres gave a marriage por-
tion to a peasant girl. The Duke d'Esper-
non conceived a vehement desire to bleed the
bridegroom on the wedding night. The poor
fellow obstinately declined the operation, till
at length the illustrious surgeon purchased
his compliance with one hundred crowns.
Such foolcries are daily practised before the
eyes of the whole world, the goverament
takes no notice of them, and the courtiers ||
most distinguished for rank and talents, pay
their court to those two monsters"

She

latter was discarded. She is now the talk of the public, despised by her lover, and deserted by her friends. She is now at a loss how to extricate herrelf from this unpleasant situation; she forces herself upon every body to make people believe that her company is still sought after; but in this also she is unsuccess fal. Sometimes she affects a certain confi. dence; at others she cannot conceal her embarrassment. In short, she has annihilated her own existence."

"The celebrated actress, Le Couvreur, is On this subject very extraordinary redead. ports are in circulation. Madame de B (probably Berry), is passionate, capricious, and very gallant, sometimes attaching herself to princes, at others to players. She lately took a liking for Count Saxe, who had none for her: not that he had any inclination to act the part of the constant swain to his mis

little adventures at the same time; but he perceived nothing attractive in the consump tive appearance of Madame de B. Indiguant at this slight of her charms, and considering Le Couvreur as the only obstacle to the gratification of her wishes, she determined to get rid of this favoured rival. With this view she had some pastilles made, and selected a young Athé, who is a very good painter, for the instrument of her vengeance.

"Madame Du Defend had long been extremely anxious to effect a reconciliation with ber husband. She possesses a good understanding, and consequently she could not be in want of reason. She availed herself of every opportunity of accomplishing her objecttress, Le Couvreur, for he had many other in a decorons and permanent manner. inherited an income of four thousand livres per annum from her grandmother, so that she was not poor. She had it in her power to improve her husband's circumstances; she made an offer to that effect, and every thing went on as well as she could wish. Every body commended her conduct. For my part I wished her not to be in so great a hurry. I advised her to submit to a six month's probation, during which her husband should reside with his father. But her imagination painted the future in such enchanting colours, that she persuaded her once more enamoured husband to give up his intended journey, and at least to dine and sup with her for the present: for the second consummation of her nuptials she herself deferred till the end of three months, in order to avoid any evil construction.

"For six weeks this plan answered extremely well; their friendship was truly touching; but at the expiration of that time she began to be as tired of the good man as ever. She did not indeed come to any open quarrel with him, but she grew so reserved, and so gloomy, that at length he set out for his father's, and she made no effort to detain him. On the contrary she is now taking all possible measures to prevent his return. I represented to her the meanness of her behaviour; she wept much, but that was all She cannot live with any body. Her last lover abandoned her because he could no longer put up with her treatment. When he heard of her intended reconciliation with her husband, he sent her letters full of tenderness and reproaches. Her former inclination revived; she imagined that a lover was better than a husband, and the

"One day the young man was accosted in the Thuilleries by two strangers, who, after expressing their pity on account of the toil to which he was obliged to submit for subsistence, proposed to him to insinuate himself in the character of a painter into the familiarity of Le Couvreur, and occasionally present her the pastilles in question. The indigent Ablé shuddered, and rejected the commission with horror. The strangers, however, intimated to him that it was no longer in his option to refuse, and that his obstinacy night cost him his life. The terrified Abbé now acquiesced. He was conducted to Machine de E——, who repeated both the promises and threats of her satellites, and delivered the pastilles to him with her owa band. He took them, and demanded only the delay of a single day to prepare himself. One evening when Le Couvreur went home, accompanied by au acquaintance of mine and an actress pined La Motte, she found an anonymous letter, in which she was earnestly requested to go alone, or with friends on whose discretion she could rely, to the gardens of the Luxembourg, where at the fifth tree in one of the great alleys, she would find a man who had a communication of the utmost importance to make to her. She immediately got into her carriage again with

her companions. At the appointed place she was met by the Abbé, who informed her, without reserve, that he was commissioned to poison her; that he was incapable of such a crime, but that he was himself placed in the most disagreeable situation, as he was sure to be assassinated.-' For the safety of both,' replied Le Couvreur, the matter ought to be communicated to the police.'

to ask Madame de B if she wished for a formal investigation of the business; if not, the Abbé could no longer be kept in confinement. She declined an investigation, and as her accuser was out of her reach while he continued in the Bastile, she agreed to his release. The father remained two months after. wards in Paris, and during that time the sou was not molested; but on his return home, when the Abbé was so imprudent as to reside at Paris as before, he suddenly disappeared; nobody knew whether he was dead or alive, and be was never heard of afterwards.

"The Abbé expressed his fear of the powerful enemies he should make by such a step; but declared, that if for her security she thought this precaution necessary, he was ready to confirm his statement. On this Le "This circumstance put Le Couvreur on Couvreur took him in her own carriage to the her guard. One night at the theatre, Madame Lieutenant of police; who gave the pastilles de B, at the conclusion of the first piece, to a dog, which died in a quarter of an hour. sent to request her to come into the Duchess's The officer manifested no surprize on hearing box. She excused herself on account of the the name of the Duchess of B, because negligence of her dress, but promised on the many similar circumstances had made him breaking up of the house to place herself in acquainted with her. He asked the Abbé if the way of the Duchess. he would attest the truth of his account be-Madame de B― loaded her with caresses She did so, and fore the proper tribunal. You may imprison || and commeudations on account of her excelme, if you please,' replied the Abbé; lent acting. Some time afterwards Le Couyconfront me with Madame de B-.' Lieutenant of the police discharged him for that at length a play in which she had a prinreur fell sick, and grew worse and worse; so the present, and submitted the whole affair to cipal part to perform, could not be concluded. the Cardinal, who in the first warmth of his She wasted away more and more every day. feelings demanded the strictest investigation; The last part she acted was Jocaste, in Volbut the numerous friends and connections of taire's Edipe. Her illness was so manifest || that she drew the compassion of the whole audience. Four days afterwards she died in dreadful convulsions. Her body was opened, and the intestines were examined. Madame

' and The

de B

had the impudence to inquire daily after her health. The public was so exasperated that this lady would certainly have experienced its resentment had she ventured during this time to appear at the theatre. All that I have here related is incontestably true, for I had it from the lips of an intimate friend of Le Couvreur."

the house of B contrived, in order to avoid the scandal, to hush up the affair. In a few months, however, it became generally circulated, how, or through whom, is not known. The brother-in-law of the accused declared to her husband, that it was absolutely necessary for his wife to clear herself of so atrocious a charge, and that a letter de cachet ought to be obtained against the Abbé. This was no difficult matter. The poor man was apprehended, thrown into the Bastile, examined, and in spite of all promises and threats, persisted in his statement. In vain were excuses of all sorts proposed to him; he was advised to with this assurance, yet at least the manner Though Mademoiselle d'Aissé concludes feign insanity, or a violent passion for Le of Le Couvreur's death was but town-talk; for Couvreur, which had induced him to trump Voltaire subjoined the following note with bis up such a story in order to produce a return. own hand:-" She expired in my arms, of an He firmly replied, that he had told nothing|| inflammation of the bowels. but the truth, and never contradicted the first directed her body to be opened. It was I who statement. Le Couvreur wrote to his father,|| Mademoiselle d'Aissé says on this subject is a All that who resided in the country, and was ignorant totally unfounded rumour." If Voltaire means of the misfortune of his son. He repaired to include the preceding story respecting the immediately to Paris, and demanded that his poisoning scheme, this affords a fresh proof soa should be set at liberty, or a legal process || how closely slander sometimes imitates the instituted against him. The Cardinal, to truth. whom he addressed this just requisition, sent

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