The things we do!

We inhabited the Hotel de Florac for a
while after our union, which was all of convenience, you understand. She
filled her salon with ministers to make you die. She assaulted my poor
father in his garden-chair, whence he could not escape her. She told my
sainted mother that she was an idolatress--she who only idolatrises her
children! She called us other poor Catholics who follow the rites of our
fathers, des Romishes; and Rome, Babylon; and the Holy Father--a scarlet
--eh! a scarlet abomination. She outraged my mother, that angel; essayed
to convert the antechamber and the office; put little books in the Abbe's
bedroom. Eh, my friend! what a good king was Charles IX., and his mother
what a wise sovereign! I lament that Madame de Florac should have escaped
the St. Barthelemi, when no doubt she was spared on account of her tender
age. We have been separated for many years; her income was greatly
exaggerated. Beyond the payment of my debts I owe her nothing. I wish I
could say as much of all the rest of the world.


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