Although I could guess what the charge would be, and was certain that the
midwife could furnish no proofs of her accusation, I went to an attorney
I knew and told him to appear for me. I instructed him that I did not
know any midwife in Paris whatsoever. The attorney waited on the
commissary, and on the day after brought me a copy of the pleas.

The midwife said that I came to her one night, accompanied by a young
lady about five months with child, and that, holding a pistol in one hand
and a packet of fifty Louis in the other, I made her promise to procure
abortion. We both of us (so she said) had masks on, thus shewing that we
had been at the opera ball. Fear, said she, had prevented her from flatly
refusing to grant my request; but she had enough presence of mind to say
that the necessary drugs were not ready, that she would have all in order
by the next night; whereupon we left, promising to return. In the belief
that we would not fail to keep the appointment, she went in to M.
Castel-Bajac to ask him to hide in the next room that she might be
protected from my fury, and that he might be a witness of what I said,
but she had not seen me again. She added that she would have given
information the day after the event if she had known who I was, but since
M. Castel-Bajac had told her my name on her recognizing me in the
Tuileries, she had thought it her bounden duty to deliver me to the law
that she might be compensated for the violence I had used to her. And
this document was signed by the said Castel-Bajac as a witness.

"This is an evident case of libel," said my attorney, "at least, if she
can't prove the truth of her allegations. My advice to you is to take the
matter before the criminal lieutenant, who will be able to give you the
satisfaction you require."