running, by taking aim, by torchlight, by night, by day, in the town, in the country, in the woods, by the waterside, in nets, with falcons, with the lance, with the horn, with the gun, with the decoy bird, in snares, in the toils, with a bird call, by the scent, on the wing, with the cornet, in slime, with a bait, with the lime-twig—­indeed, by means of all the snares invented since the banishment of Adam.  And gets killed in various different ways, but generally is overridden.

The artful fellow ceased to mention his desires, but had a post of honour given to the Lady of Hocquetonville, in the queen’s household.  Now, one day that the said Isabella went to Vincennes, to visit the sick King, and left him master of the Hotel St. Paul, he commanded the chef to have a delicate and royal supper prepared, and to serve it in the queen’s apartments.  Then he sent for his obstinate lady by express command, and by one of the pages of the household.  The Countess d’Hocquetonville, believing that she was desired by Madame Isabella for some service appertaining to her post, or invited to some sudden amusement, hastened to the room.  In consequence of the precautions taken by the disloyal lover, no one had been able to inform the noble dame of the princess’s departure, so she hastened to the splendid chamber, which, in the Hotel St. Paul, led into the queen’s bedchamber; there she found the Duc d’Orleans alone.  Suspecting some treacherous plot, she went quickly into the other room, found no queen, but heard the Prince give vent to a hearty laugh.

“I am undone!” said she.  Then she endeavoured to run away.

But the good lady-killer had posted about devoted attendants, who, without knowing what was going on, closed the hotel, barricaded the doors, and in this mansion, so large that it equalled a fourth of Paris, the Lady d’Hocquetonville was as in a desert, with no other aid than that of her patron saint and God.  Then, suspecting the truth, the poor lady trembled from head to foot and fell into a chair; and then the working of this snare, so cleverly conceived, was, with many a hearty laugh, revealed to her by her lover.  Directly the duke made a movement to approach her this woman rose and exclaimed, arming herself first with her tongue, and flashing one thousand maledictions from her eyes—­

“You will possess me—­but dead!  Ha! my lord, do not force me to a struggle which must become known to certain people.  I may yet retire, and the Sire d’Hocquetonville shall be ignorant of the sorrow with which you have forever tinged my life.  Duke, you look too often in the ladies’ faces to find time to study men’s, and you do not therefore know your man.  The Sire d’Hocquetonville would let himself be hacked to pieces in your service, so devoted is he to you, in memory of your kindness to him, and also because he is partial to you.  But as he loves so does he hate; and I believe him to be the man to bring his mace down upon your head, to take his revenge, if you but compel me to utter one cry.  Do you desire both my death and your own?  But be assured that, as an honest woman, whatever happens to me, good or evil, I shall keep no secret.  Now, will you let me go?”