WHAT a singular scene was that private supper with the Regent of France
and his /roues/! The party consisted of twenty: nine gentlemen of the
court besides myself; four men of low rank and character, but admirable
buffoons; and six ladies, such ladies as the Duke loved best,--witty,
lively, sarcastic, and good for nothing.

De Chatran accosted me.

"Je suis ravi, mon cher Monsieur Devereux," said he, gravely, "to see
you in such excellent company: you must be a little surprised to find
yourself here!"

"Not at all! every scene is worth one visit. He, my good Monsieur
Chatran, who goes to the House of Correction once is a philosopher: he
who goes twice is a rogue!"

"Thank you, Count, what am I then? I have been /here/ twenty times."

"Why, I will answer you with a story. The soul of a Jesuit one night,
when its body was asleep, wandered down to the lower regions; Satan
caught it, and was about to consign it to some appropriate place; the
soul tried hard to excuse itself: you know what a cunning thing a
Jesuit's soul is! 'Monsieur Satan,' said the spirit; 'no king should
punish a traveller as he would a native. Upon my honour, I am merely
here /en voyageur/.' 'Go then,' said Satan, and the soul flew back to
its body. But the Jesuit died, and came to the lower regions a second
time. He was brought before his Satanic majesty, and made the same
excuse. 'No, no,' cried Beelzebub; 'once here is to be only /le diable
voyageur/; twice here, and you are /le diable tout de bon/.'"