Afterwards, as Scuderi, who, notwithstanding the time that she bestowed on her long romances, had a propensity to make rhymes on every chance occurrence of the day, turned the whole adventure, with the goldsmith, into very good mock heroics, which, on the following evening, she read over to the lung at the chambers of de Maintenon. As might be supposed, she contrived, at Cardillac's expense, such a ridiculous picture of the goldsmith and his noble bride, aged seventy-three, that every one was highly diverted;—suffice it, that the king laughed with all his might, and swore that Boileau himself had met with a rival, on which account de Scuderi's poem was, of course, set down as the wittiest that had ever appeared in the world. So the matter seemed at an end and was forgotten.
CHAPTER IV.
Several months had passed away, when it chanced that de Scuderi was one day driving along the Pont Neuf, in the glass-coach of the Duchess de Montausier. At this time, the invention of coaches with glass-windows was so new, that a crowd always collected when an equipage of that kind passed along the streets. So it happened in the present instance, that the gaping populace surrounded de Montausier's coach in such manner, that the horses could hardly get forward.—Suddenly, de Scuderi heard a great uproar on the bridge, and perceived a young man, who, by the dint of thrusts and fisty-cuffs, was making his way forcibly through the crowd. On his approach nearer, she was painfully struck by the deadly pale countenance of the youth, whose features, though naturally fine, were now distorted by grief and anxiety. His eyes were constantly fixed on her during the whole tumult, while, with continued violence, he cleared the way before him, till at length he arrived at the door of the carriage, which, the glass being drawn up, he impetuously forced open; then
