received considerably more than its equivalent.
With this lady's visit is connected an episode.

Apocryphal biographers, speaking of
Cartouche's amours, gave him credit for finding
favour with some few ladies of rank; for which
the only real approach to a foundation is his
adventure with this very Madame de Boufflers.
Towards the close of his career, when he was at
the height of his glory, and consequently
exposed to the greatest dangers, Cartouche was
so hunted and harassed by his pursuers, that he
knew not where to lay his head. With
hundreds of thousands of francs at his disposal, a
safe bed was often next to impossible to find: hence
various expedients to obtain a night's lodging.

In the July which preceded his execution in
November, Madame de Boufflers, residing in the
Faubourg Saint-Germain, had left her bedroom
window open on account of the heat, and was
proceeding to undress for the night. Suddenly,
without being warned by the slightest noise, she
beheld a young man—Cartouche's career was
cut short at twenty-eight—dressed in the height
of fashion, climb over the balcony and jump
into the chamber, exactly like a lover at the
Opera-Comique. At first, the great lady
mistook the character of her visitor.

"Monsieur—what is the meaning of— this
strange proceeding?"

"A thousand pardons, Madame la Maréchale;
I am certain that you are acquainted with me—
at least by reputation. You see before you
Louis-Dominique Cartouche; you will excuse
my entering into any further particulars. And
now, attention: not a word, not a motion! I
have entered alone, but your hotel is surrounded
in all directions. Nevertheless, you have
nothing to fear; it is no evil design which has
brought me to your house. I only wish to
become your debtor for a twofold benefit—for a
good supper and the pleasure of sleeping in a
good bed, which is a pleasure I have not enjoyed
for many a day. There, make yourself quite at
ease. You are a sensible woman; only grant my
little request, and I give you my word of honour
that no violence—- " Seeing the lady's alarm
subside, he added: " We are agreed—are we
not? You are an angel: besides, you see these."
And opening his coat, he displayed half a dozen
English, pistols. " Do not constrain me to make
use of them. I will hide myself behind this
curtain; order some supper to be brought up
here, and tell your maid to go and sleep whereever
suits her best. Her bed is in this cabinet;
I know your house better than the man who
built it. I shall be quite satisfied with that
little bed, I promise you. As I told you, I
particularly want a good night's rest. Come, do it
at once; remember that I am behind the curtain.
I shall wait there while your orders are given."

The Maréchale rang the bell; the footman
brought a handsome repast, and retired, wondering
that their mistress should eat a second
supper, which appeared likely to be a hearty one.
As to Mademoiselle Justine, having received
permission to pass the evening elsewhere, she did
not make her appearance at all. She was
"affiliée"—enrolled in the gang—and had no
difficulty in finding, at the corner of the street,
her friend Belle-Humeur, a soldier in the Garde-
Française, whose duty was to watch over his
captain's safety.

The supper was gay—so gay that at last
Madame la Maréchale took part in it, although,
of course, there was only a single glass and a
single knife and fork to make use of. Collectors
of scandal, who might think the present a good
opportunity, are met by a simple chronological
statement. In the month of July, seventeen
hundred and twenty-one, the widow of Louis-
François, Due de Boufflers, Peer and Maréchal
of France, not less illustrious for the retreat of
Malplaquet than for the defence of Lille, the
good-natured and clever Maréchale was some-
what on the wrong side of sixty. Cartouche
thoroughly enjoyed his supper, and pronounced
everything exquisite, except the champagne.
Next morning, therefore, wishing to show not
only his gratitude but his connoisseurship, he
sent the Maréchale a hundred bottles of first-
rate quality, which he had had abstracted, by
his locksmith Patapon, from the cellar of a
financier, the father of the Pâris-Duverneys.
The destination of the lost champagne having
afterwards been revealed by the confession of the
said Patapon on the rack, the financier brought
an action against the Maréchale for the payment
of the value of his wine. Madame de Boufflers
defended the suit, pleading that she had fairly
earned her wine. The judges were of her opinion.

This present of champagne was not the only
way in which Cartouche testified his gratitude.
Some time afterwards, when his people had
stopped the Maréchale's carriage one evening in
the Rue du Cherche-Midi, he recognised her
livery. Hastening to the carriage-door, he said,
"Let Madame de Boufflers pass freely to- day,
and henceforward always." Then taking her
hand as if to kiss it, he slipped on her finger a
magnificent diamond which had been snatched a
week before from that of Madame de Phalaris,
who never saw it again. Truly, if Madame de
Boufflers kept these very questionable gifts, she
might, when she visited him in his tribulation,
have offered a somewhat more liberal return
than a couple of louis of twenty-four francs each.

More extraordinary visitors than the ladies and
the Regent came. Measures were taken to exhibit
at the same time in two Parisian theatres, with the
approbation and permission of the authorities, the
still living man whom the rack and the wheel
were awaiting, and who, after all, was not yet
condemned. For this purpose, they several
times introduced into his dungeon the author
and the principal actor of both the pieces; that
is to say, for the Théâtre-Italien, Louis Riccoboni
and Thomassin, whose real names were
Tomaso Antonio Vicentini; and for the Théâtre-
Français, Marc-Antoine Legrand and Maurice
Quinault, both of them partners in the society of
management.

In the interrogatory which he underwent on
the sixteenth of December, seventeen hundred
and twenty-one, Legrand avows that, having