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.