grumbled sorely at having to get up early in the
morning to march out to fight a man he liked,
for a purpose he did not understand, and
with a weapon to which he was unaccustomed.
Arrived at the place of meeting he apologised
to the officer, complaining of the necessity he
was under, and assuring him of his good- will.
The young man bowed, smiled, and before
La Fontaine had well fumbled at his first
guard, whipped the sword out of his hand;
then expressing his extreme regret at the
circumstance, he lectured the philosopher
on his folly, and expressed his intention of
never entering his house again, since his
visits were so misunderstood. La Fontaine
was in despair. He embraced his dear
friend again and again, and swore that he
would fight him on the spot if he did not
return home with him then, and visit him as
usual. The officer consented; and Madame
la Fontaine's reward was, what it had been
before. Sometimes, honour prevented the
giving of satisfaction; and a general character,
of what we would call blackguardism, held
a man harmless, inasmuch as gentlemen would
not meet him. One of this sort complained to
a Marshal of France that he had been slapped
in the face, and asked what he should
do? "Go and wash it off!" said the marshal,
turning on his heel. Another, who had been
thrown out of a window up-stairs for cheating
at cards, was counselled by his friend,
"never to play at cards again excepting on the
ground-floor" and Brisseuil refused to fight
with a detected sharper; but eventually was
forced into the quarrel, and severely wounded.
D'Aydie,an abbé, and the lover of the Duchess
de Berri, fought in a figurante's house with
a provincial clerk called Bouton, and wounded
him. The duchess deprived D'Aydie of his
preferment, and forced him to become a
Knight of Malta, for having fought with one
so far beneath him. But, the pugnacious
Bouton pursued and fought the abbé four
times; and then the duchess brought the
affair before the Court of Honour, under the
presidency of the Marshal de Chamilly. The
court and the marshal were disgusted at
"this fellow Bouton, who dared to call them
my lords," and they ordered D'Aydie to be
imprisoned for degrading himself so far as to
fight with such a low-born clown; as for him,
he was discharged, as being beneath their
notice. But, the duchess got him hanged;
to the horror of all Paris. This was in the
Regent's time, before the majority of Louis
the Fifteenth; the same regent who, though
he "thought duelling had gone too much
out of fashion," lectured two officers who
fought about an Angola cat, saying, "they
should have fought with claws, not swords."
The celebrated Law of Lauriston fought and
killed his man.

Before Louis the Fifteenth's majority, the
Duc de Richelieu began his notable courses
as a youth of only twenty, by attacking and
wounding Le Comte de Gacé, under a street lamp.
A short time after this, having a
pique against Le Comte de Bavière, he
followed him on a journey, insulted, and
obstructed him. They began to fight and were
only separated by the Chevalier d'Auvray,
who took De Richelieu into custody as the
aggressor. Taken before the Court of Honour
where all the noble youth of France were
assembled bareheaded, he was forced to
apologise to De Baviére; but they were
none the better friends.

A few years, full of diverse scampisbness,
rolled on, and then Albani, nephew to Pope
Clement the Eleventh, applied to him for ways
and means to circumvent Madame
Créqui-Blanchefort, who, to the wonder of the world,
and the exception of her age, was a woman of
unblemished virtue. A plan was formed
between these two worthies; and Albani,
disguised as a servant, and furnished with
strong letters of recommendation from Richelieu,
entered Madame Crequi-Blanchefort's
service; but, before long, betrayed himself,
and was kicked out of the house for his
pains. Richelieu was locked up in the
Bastille for his share in the matter. "When
liberated, the young Marquis d'Aumont, a
lad of sixteen, fought and wounded him in
the hip, so that it was expected he would be
lame for life. D'Aumont was a kinsman
of Madame Blanchefort. In seventeen
hundred and thirty-four, Richelieu killed his
kinsman, the Prince de Lixen; who himself
had killed the Marquis de Ligueville, uncle
to Richelieu's wife; the quarrel arising from
De Lixen taunting Richelieu with being hot,
"wondering that he should appear in such a
state as this, after he had been purified by
admission into their family." For the De
Lixen blood was older than the Richelieu,
and the prince had the sting of truth in his
taunt. They met in the trenches that night;
they were both serving together at the siege
of Philipsberg.

Du Vighan, of Saintonga, was the Don
Juan of that time. Hackney coachmen
and tradesmen's wives, calling to present
their bills, took them back unpaid, and
left him good wishes and money instead.
He bewitched every one, and the Archbishop
of Paris said of him that he was "the
serpent of the terrestrial paradise." Of course
he was always in trouble of some sort, and
was once nearly killed in a duel with Le
Comte de Meulan. When recovered, he fell
in love with Mademoiselle de Soissons, who
loved him with that singular passion always
the lot of Don Juans to receive. She was
severely lectured by her aunt, and shut up in
the convent of Montmartre; Du Vighan
understood the use of rope-ladders, and Montmartre
had walls which might be scaled. He and
his princess met in her cloister as they had
before met in her hotel, and matters went on
swimmingly till the rope-ladder was found,
and Baron d'Ugeon, De Soissons' cousin,
demanded satisfaction. They met, and