Something less than a year later a little daughter was born to Ninon. There was so much doubt concerning its paternity, that the Comte de Fiesque and the Abbé d’Effiat had no choice but to make a throw of the dice for the rightful claim on it, and de Fiesque being the winner, subsequently had the child educated and reared at his own cost, insisting on this in despite of Ninon wishing to keep it under her own care. But towards herself the attachment of the count rapidly cooled. To bring him back to her feet, she conceived the ruse of cutting off her hair, the real locks, for these having grown again. There was, however, something in this of the virtue of necessity; as it was again threatening to become scanty—and sending them by a servant to the count, it exercised its intended effect; as he regarded it as a touching sacrifice, and Fiesque was again at her feet, penitent, and tender as ever. But Ninon, thus triumphing, dismissed him from the old position, and relegated him to the ranks only of friendship. Once more the hair of Ninon began to grow luxuriantly, and she devised a fashion of arranging it that was so charming, as to find the sincere flattery of imitation—“_Se coiffer à la Ninon_”—became the rage. The wife of de Fiesque wrote Ninon a terrible letter of reproach for her intrigue with the count. It would seem to have been prompted simply by revenge, as the lady made no pretence of affection for her husband; but the fear of entailing injury to the child, strongly influenced Ninon to desire to have it in her own care. The count, however, had left the country for Spain, and she had difficulty in discovering with whom the poor babe had been placed. She was, moreover, moving at that time in one of her whirling rounds of gaiety, and of a thoughtless folly, that at a later day brought its sincere regrets; and she abandoned the search, and followed on by the old ways, bestowing her smiles chiefly on the Comte de Miossens, who had been distinguishing himself greatly under Maurice of Orange. An old friend, Monsieur de Gourville—who, as a warm partisan of the Duc de Condé and the Duchesse de Longueville, had remained away from Paris for a long time—returned one day somewhat unexpectedly, and Ninon, naturally looking for a visit from him, waited, but in vain. At last she wrote him a little note to ascertain why he so long delayed his coming, and so much the more since he had entrusted to her keeping a large sum of money in gold in a bag, having at the same time placed as much more with the Grand Penitentiary. This individual had now, he told de Gourville, given it all to the poor; as he supposed that had been as de Gourville had intended, but it had not been the intention. The money had been deposited in trust, said de Gourville, who added he should have liked to strangle the Grand Penitentiary. “And did you have the fancy,” said Ninon, “that I had distributed the sixty thousand livres also in good works?”