use, however, is much more difficult than the theory; this, indeed, is a complicated affair. I never leave my house without ascertaining the exact number of minutes in the day, and take care that my watch is exact to the time, for a minute more or less would make all the difference in the world.""Would you have the goodness to explain the theory to me." "You will find it in Artephius and more clearly in Sandivogius." "I have both works, but they are in Latin."
"I will make you a translation of them."
"You are very kind; I shall be extremely obliged to you."
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"I have seen such things here, madam, that I could not refuse, for reasons which I may, perhaps, tell you tomorrow." "Why not to-day?"
"Because I ought to know the name of your familiar spirit before I tell you."
"You know, then, that I have a familiar? You should have one, if it is true that you possess the powder of projection." "I have one."
"Give me the oath of the order." "I dare not, and you know why."
"Perhaps I shall be able to remove your fears by tomorrow."
This absurd oath was none other than that of the princes of the Rosy Cross, who never pronounce it without being certain that each party is a Rosicrucian, so Madame d'Urfe was quite right in her caution, and as for me I had to pretend to be afraid myself. The fact
is I wanted to gain time, for I knew perfectly well the nature of the oath. It may be given between men without any indecency, but a
woman like Madame d'Urfe would probably not relish giving it to a man whom she saw for the first time.
"When we find this oath alluded to in the Holy Scriptures," she said, "it is indicated by the words 'he swore to him by laying his hand
on his thigh.'"
"But the thigh is not really what is meant; and consequently we never find any notice of a man taking this oath to a woman, as a
woman has no 'verbum'."
The Count de la Tour d'Auvergne came back at nine o'clock in the evening, and he skewed no little astonishment at seeing me still with his aunt. He told us that his cousin's fever had increased, and that small-pox had declared itself; "and I am going to take leave of you, my dear aunt, at least for a month, as I intend to shut myself up with the sick man."
Madame d'Urfe praised his zeal, and gave him a little bag on his promising to return it to her after the cure of the prince. "Hang it round his neck and the eruption will come out well, and he will be perfectly cured."
He promised to do so, and having wished us good evening he went out.
"I do not know, madam, what your bag contains, but if it have aught to do with magic, I have no confidence in its efficacy, as you
have neglected to observe the planetary hour."
"It is an electrum, and magic and the observance of the hour have nothing to do with it." "I beg your pardon."
She then said that she thought my desire for privacy praiseworthy, but she was sure I should not be ill pleased with her small circle, if
I would but enter it.
"I will introduce you to all my friends," said she, "by asking them one at a time, and you will then be able to enjoy the company of them all."
I accepted her proposition.
In consequence of this arrangement I dined the next day with M. Grin and his niece, but neither of them took my fancy. The day after, I dined with an Irishman named Macartney, a physician of the old school, who bored me terribly. The next day the guest was
a monk who talked literature, and spoke a thousand follies against Voltaire, whom I then much admired, and against the "Esprit des Lois," a favourite work of mine, which the cowled idiot refused to attribute to Montesquieu, maintaining it had been written by a monk. He might as well have said that a Capuchin created the heavens and the earth.
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On the day following Madame d'Urfe asked me to dine with the Chevalier d'Arzigny, a man upwards of eighty, vain, foppish, and consequently ridiculous, known as "The Last of the Beaus." However, as he had moved in the court of Louis XIV., he was interesting enough, speaking with all the courtesy of the school, and having a fund of anecdote relating to the Court of that despotic and luxurious monarch.
His follies amused me greatly. He used rouge, his clothes were cut in the style which obtained in the days of Madame de Sevigne, he professed himself still the devoted lover of his mistress, with whom he supped every night in the company of his lady friends, who were all young and all delightful, and preferred his society to all others; however, in spite of these seductions, he remained faithful to his mistress.
The Chevalier d'Arzigny had an amiability of character which gave whatever he said an appearance of truth, although in his capacity of courtier truth was probably quite unknown to him. He always wore a bouquet of the most strongly-smelling flowers, such as tuberoses, jonquils, and Spanish jasmine; his wig was plastered down with amber-scented pomade, his teeth were made of ivory, and his eyebrows dyed and perfumed, and his whole person exhaled an odour to which Madame d'Urfe did not object, but which I could scarcely bear. If it had not been for this drawback I should probably have cultivated his society. He was a professed Epicurean, and carried out the system with an amazing tranquillity. He said that he would undertake to receive twenty-four blows with the stick every morning on the condition that he should not die within the twenty-four hours, and that the older he grew the more blows he would gladly submit to. This was being in love with life with a vengeance.
Another day I dined with M. Charon, who was a counsellor, and in charge of a suit between Madame d'Urfe and her daughter Mad-ame du Chatelet, whom she disliked heartily. The old counsellor had been the favoured lover of the marchioness forty years before, and he thought himself bound by the remembrance of their love-passages to support the cause of his old sweetheart. In those days French magistrates thought they had a right to take the side of their friends, or of persons in whom they had an interest, sometimes for friendship's sake, and sometimes for a monetary consideration; they thought, in fact, that they were justified in selling justice.
M. Charon bored me like the others, as was natural, considering we had no two tastes in common.
The scene was changed the next day when I was amused with the company of M. de Viarme, a young counsellor, a nephew of Madame d'Urfe's, and his pretty and charming wife. He was the author of the "Remonstrances to the King," a work which got him a great reputation, and had been read eagerly by the whole town. He told me that the business of a counsellor was to oppose
everything done by the crown, good and bad. His reasons for this theory were those given by all minorities, and I do not think I need trouble my readers with them.
The most enjoyable dinner I had was with Madame de Gergi, who came with the famous adventurer, known by the name of the Count de St. Germain. This individual, instead of eating, talked from the beginning of the meal to the end, and I followed his example in one respect as I did not eat, but listened to him with the greatest attention. It may safely be said that as a conversationalist he was unequalled.
St. Germain gave himself out for a marvel and always aimed at exciting amazement, which he often succeeded in doing. He was scholar, linguist, musician, and chemist, good-looking, and a perfect ladies' man. For awhile he gave them paints and cosmetics;
