disturbed her slumber.

But may it not have been some Maintenon who received the suggestion
from her confessor, or, more probably, some ambitious woman who wished
to rule her husband? Or, more undoubtedly, some pretty little
Pompadour overcome by that Parisian infirmity so pleasantly described
by M. de Maurepas in that quatrain which cost him his protracted
disgrace and certainly contributed to the disasters of Louis XVI's
reign:


"Iris, we love those features sweet,
Your graces all are fresh and free;
And flowerets spring beneath your feet,
Where naught, alas! but flowers are seen."


But why should it not have been a philosopher who dreaded the
disenchantment which a woman would experience at the sight of a man
asleep? And such a one would always roll himself up in a coverlet and
keep his head bare.

Unknown author of this Jesuitical method, whoever thou art, in the
devil's name, we hail thee as a brother! Thou hast been the cause of
many disasters. Thy work has the character of all half measures; it is
satisfactory in no respect, and shares the bad points of the two other
methods without yielding the advantages of either. How can the man of
the nineteenth century, how can this creature so supremely
intelligent, who has displayed a power well-nigh supernatural, who has
employed the resources of his genius in concealing the machinery of