Behold, the menial hand that broke your bread, That wiped your shoes, and with your crumbs was fed, When life and riches, proffered to his view, Before his eyes the strong temptation threw, Rather than quit integrity of heart, Or act, like you, th’unmanly traytor’s part, Disdains the purchase of a worthless life, And bares his bosom to the butcher’s knife. But Murray renounced honour and lingered on the scene. And whither, whither, can the guilty fly From the devouring worms that never die? ‘Lead us not into temptation.’ The view of death brought Murray face to face with a self in his breast, which, it is probable, he had never known to exist: that awful contradictory self to which each of us has yielded, though few in such extremity of surrender. IV MADEMOISELLE LUCI In ‘Pickle the Spy’ mention was frequently made of ‘Mademoiselle Luci,’ the mysterious young lady who, from 1749 to her death in 1752, was the French Egeria of Prince Charles. An exile, without a roof to cover his head in any land but the States of the Pope, to which he declined to go, the Prince was sheltered in the Parisian convent of St. Joseph by Mlle. Luci and the lady styled _La Grande Main_ in the cypher of the Prince’s correspondence. By dint of some research, I discovered that Mlle. Luci was Mlle. Ferrand, while La Grande Main was her devoted friend, Madame de Vassé. Both were very intimate with a person always alluded to in the Prince’s correspondence as _le philosophe_. As Montesquieu lived in the same street (the Rue Dominique) as these ladies (who directed the Prince’s philosophical studies), as he was on friendly terms with Charles, Lord Elibank, Bulkeley, and other Jacobites, I concluded that the _philosophe_ of the correspondence was probably the author of ‘L’Esprit des Lois.’ This was a blunder which criticism should have detected. The _philosophe_ was not Montesquieu, but the Abbé Condillac. The proof is in the preliminary chapter of his ‘Traité des Sensations;’ he there dedicates that important psychological work to Madame de Vassé, and deplores the death of their beloved Mlle. Ferrand. Condillac, clearly, was their friend, _le philosophe_. Mlle. Ferrand, it seems, was the instructor of Condillac, as well as the protector and literary adviser of Prince Charles. ‘You know, Madame,’ says Condillac to Madame de Vassé, ‘to whom I owe the light which at length scattered my prejudices. You know what part she had in this book, that lady so justly dear to you, so worthy of your friendship and esteem. I consecrate my work to her memory, and I address you that I may share the pleasure of speaking about her and the pain of our common sorrow. May this book be the monument of your friendship, and preserve it unforgotten.’