This Marin, a provençal by birth, in his childhood one of the choristers, and afterwards organist of the village church, was, at the period of which I am speaking, one of the most useful men possible. Nominated by M. de St. Florentin to the post of censor royal, this friend to the philosophers was remarkable for the peculiar talent, with which he would alternately applaud and condemn the writings of these gentlemen. Affixing his sanction to two lines in a tragedy by Dorat had cost him twenty-four hours’ meditation within the walls of the Bastille; and for permitting the representation of some opera (the name of which I forget) he had been deprived of a pension of 2,000 francs; but, wedded to the delights of his snug post, Marin always contrived, after every storm, to find his way back to its safe harbor. He had registered a vow never to resign the office of censor, but to keep it in despite of danger and difficulty. I soon discovered that he passed from the patronage of Lebel to that of Chamilly, and I was not slow in conjecturing that he joined to his avocations of censor and gazetteer that of purveyor to his majesty’s _petits amours_. Spite of my indefatigable endeavors to render Louis XV happy and satisfied with the pleasures of his own home, he would take occasional wandering fits, and go upon the ramble, sometimes in pursuit of a high-born dame, at others eager to obtain a poor and simple _grisette_; and so long that the object of his fancy were but new to him, it mattered little what were her claims to youth, beauty, or rank in life. The maréchale de Mirepoix frequently said to me, “Do you know, my dear creature, that your royal admirer is but a very fickle swain, who is playing the gay gallant when he ought to be quietly seated at his own fireside. Have a care, he is growing old, and his intellect becomes more feeble each day; and what he would never have granted some few years back, may be easily wrung from him now. Chamilly aspires at governing his master, and Marin seconds him in his project.” At length, roused to a sense of impending evil, by the constant reminding of the maréchale, I summoned Marin to my presence. “Now, sir,” said I, as he approached, “I would have you to know that I am apprised of all your tricks: you and your friend Chamilly are engaged in a very clever scheme to improve your own fortunes at the expense of the king your master.” Marin burst into loud protestations of his innocence, declaring that he was as innocent as the lamb just born. I refused to believe this, and desired he would explain to me why he went so frequently to the apartments of M. Chamilly. “Alas, madam!” replied Marin, “I go thither but to solicit his aid in craving the bounty of his majesty.”