the inmates of the house. The roof of the hôtel
formed a vast attic, always open, and in which
there was a garret window allowing access to a
broad rain-gutter running along the bottom of
two sloping roofs, which was prolonged for a
considerable distance, along the row of houses.
The door of this attic was never closed.

Some time before our story opens, Madam
Mazel had asked Lebrun for a master-key which
he made use of to go in and out as he wanted
She gave it to the Abbé Poulard. Lebrun
however, had a second master-key, and
continued to employ it for the same purpose as
before.

On the first Sunday in Advent, the 27th of
November, 1689, Lebrun's daughters came to
pay their respects to the Dame Mazel after her
dinner. She received them as usual, kindly,
requested them to come and see her again,
and left them to go to vespers. Lebrun gave
his arm to his mistress, the two little lackeys
following them. When he saw her comfortably
seated on her bench in the chapel of the
Convent of the Prémontré Nuns, Rue Hautefeuille,
he was at liberty until the conclusion of the
service. He went and gossiped with the cook's
husband, one Lagiée, a locksmith. They agreed
that their two families should pic-nic together
that evening, so they went to a cook-shop to
buy something for supper. Lebrun ran for a
moment to his wife's lodgings, and then at
eight o'clock he went to the house of one
Dame Duvan, where he was to find his
mistress, the coachman, and the two little lackeys.
After conducting his mistress to her hôtel, he
returned to his friend Lagiée.

The Dame Mazel supped tête-a-tête with the
Abbé Poulard as usual. During the repast,
the abbé announced that he intended sleeping
out, in his other chamber. The Dame Mazel
went to bed at about eleven o'clock. Lebrun had
stayed late at his pic-nic supper. Just as the
two waiting-women, after undressing their
mistress, were preparing to retire, they heard him
scratching* at the back staircase door.
* " " When you call to pay a visit, knock or ring
very gently, just enough to make yourself heard.
Formerly it was considered bon ton to do no more
than scratch at a great man's door."— La Politesse
Française, par E. Muller.

"Who is there?" asked the Dame Mazel.

"'Tis M. Lebrun," said the femme-de-
chambre.

"A pretty time of night!" exclaimed the
irritable lady.

Finding that they did not let him in by that
way, Lebrun retired, went round, and returned
to the chamber by the grand staircase. His
mistress gave her orders for next day's supper,
which was a reception-day. He then finished
his service for the night in the customary way.
He closed the door of the chamber by pulling
it after him, after laying the key on a chair
inside; then, as was his practice every evening,
he locked the door of the second ante-chamber
and laid the key on the chimney-piece of the
first— i.e. of that first entered from the grand
staircase.

That done, Lebrun went down into the
kitchen, laid his hat upon the table, took the key
of the great door with the intention of locking
it, but first warmed himself before the logs
which still blazed on the hearth. Insensibly
he fell asleep; his sociable supper had made
him drowsy. When he awoke, he went and
locked the door, which he found wide open,
and took the key with him to his sleeping-
place.

Early next morning he started on his errands.
He had to go to the butcher's, and make
preparations for the evening's supper. He met a
bookseller, with whom he had a friendly gossip.
His remarks were cheerful, even jocose. At
the butcher's, he hurried the sending of the
soup-meat; his mistress would want a basin of
broth before it was late. Returned to the hôtel,
he met three of his friends near the door; he
insisted on their stepping into the kitchen for a
moment. He was in such a merry mood, that,
taking off his cloak and putting it on the
shoulders of one of the party, he pretended to
thrash him with a leg of mutton, saying, " I
have the right to beat my own cloak as much as
I please." He then cast an eye on the
preparations for supper, and gave one of the little
lackeys some wood to carry up to madame's
chamber. Meanwhile, the clock struck eight,
and his mistress had not yet rung for her
waiting-maids. Lebrun noticed it, and appeared
uneasy. The Dame Mazel usually awoke at
seven.

He fidgeted about a few minutes longer,
continually expecting the bell to ring. He stepped
out of doors for an instant and went to his
wife's, to give her seven louis-d'ors and a few
crowns, which he did not wish to keep loose in
his pocket. On leaving her, he said, " Madame
is not yet awake; I don't know what can be the
meaning of it."

He found the servants seriously alarmed at
their mistress's silence. They resolved to go
up-stairs and knock at the several doors of her
room, shouting, " Madame Mazel! Madame
Mazel!"

No reply was made.

"Can she have had a fit?" said one of the
servants.

"It must be something worse than that,"
replied Lebrun. " I don't at all like finding the
coach door wide open last night."

They sent for Madame Mazel's eldest son.
He knocked at the door with no better result,
and then sent to fetch a locksmith. " What can
it be?" he asked Lebrun. " It must be
apoplexy."

"If we sent for a surgeon in any case?"
suggested one of the waiting-women.

"It is not that," said Lebrun; " it is much
worse; there must have been foul play. I am
very uneasy about the coach doors being open
last night."

The locksmith opened the bedchamer door,
Lebrun, the first to enter, ran to the bed, drew