That wealthy functionary had purposely bought a lot of land in a quarter distant from the centre of the city and almost deserted. When building there a _petite maison_, where he could at his ease receive his mistresses, entertain his friends, and give fêtes which generally degenerated into orgies, our farmer-general, who nevertheless affected to lead a more regular life than many of his confrères, had not forgotten to arrange a means whereby he could always avoid scandal, and even be able at need to deny his presence at his little house in Rue de Bretonvilliers. To that end, the architect had, in accordance with his instructions, divided the house into three parts, or rather three wings; one, the largest and most sumptuous, on the right of the courtyard, was the general rendezvous of the guests; there they supped and gambled and indulged in the most unbridled dissipation. The left wing contained the kitchen, the offices, and the servants' quarters. Lastly, at the rear of the courtyard, was a smaller building, never occupied except by the master of the house and those of his most intimate friends whom he allowed to have access to it. It was rumored that in that part of the house there were secret doors opening into underground passages which had their issue in deserted lanes or in the unimproved lands on the other side of Rue de Bretonvilliers, and that by means of those secret exits the proprietor could, when he chose, disappear from his house, and even deny his presence there, where it was always impossible to take him unawares. Despite all his precautions, our farmer-general was surprised one day by someone whom it was impossible to avoid, and against whom it is fruitless to resort to secret exits and secret doors: Death had struck him down at the apogee of his prosperity, at the very moment when that man, always fortunate theretofore, was cudgelling his brains to devise some new desire to be gratified. But Death often seizes his victims at such times; as an ancient philosopher has told us: excess of good fortune is almost as much to be dreaded as adversity. The farmer-general left none but collateral relations, who had offered the house in Rue de Bretonvilliers for sale. But time passed and no purchaser appeared. The roués of those days preferred to have their _petites maisons_ in the faubourgs, or in the country--altogether outside the city. So it had been decided to offer the house for hire, and there the Comte de Marvejols had taken up his abode when he ceased to live in his father's house.