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Rh the finest that could be seen: nothing could be more regular, more graceful, or more easy. Certainly it is pleasant to appreciate one's own perfections; it puts one on good terms with others, by first being on such with ourselves. But now for the quarrel."

"Madame de Chatillion," answered the Chevalier, "in the first halcyon hours which her smiles created for l'Abbé, had resigned to him some letters of M. le Prince; she also, in due time, favoured him with divers addressed to himself. These precious epistles were placed in certain caskets, and treasured like—really, my experience affords me nothing sufficiently precious for a likeness. One fine morning, when l'Abbé Fouquet was in the country, she goes to his house; the servants, knowing her authority was absolute with their master, supposed it was to be equally absolute with themselves, and admitted her to his cabinet. Once there, she makes good use of her time, and retakes all those said letters; considering, perhaps, that what is said may be unsaid, but what is written remains in evidence against you."

"Love-letters are very foolish things," muttered Christina.

"L'Abbé returned," pursued the Chevalier,