Among the fashionable gladiators of those days was Philip d’Oger, Marquis of Cavoie, a man whom nature had liberally endowed with the means of shining in a nobler sphere. Cavoie, born in 1640, and descended from an ancient Picard family, was the son of a woman of talent, who gained the good graces of Anne of Austria, and availed herself of her influence to forward the fortune of her offspring. His personal appearance was greatly in his favour; he was one of the handsomest and best made men in France, and he dressed with singular elegance. His courage, too, was no less conspicuous than his corporeal qualities. In 1666, he served as a volunteer on board of the Dutch fleet, under De Ruyter; and in the battle with the Duke of Albemarle he distinguished himself by the perilous exploit of proceeding in a boat to cut the cable with which some English sloops were towing down a fire-ship on the Dutch admiral. He succeeded in his daring attempt, and escaped unhurt. By this gallant action he acquired the friendship of the celebrated Turenne. Long before this he had become known as “the brave Cavoie,” in consequence of his gallant bearing in the single combats which were still too common in France. It was for having acted as second in one of these combats, that he was immured in the Bastile. His imprisonment would, perhaps, have been protracted, but for a curious circumstance, of which a pleasant account is given by the Duke de St. Simon. Mlle. de Coetlogon, one of the maids of honour to the consort of Louis XIV., had fallen madly in love with Cavoie. St. Simon describes her as being “ugly, prudent, naïve, much-liked, and a very good creature.” It is no slight proof of her amiability, that, in a frivolous and satirical court, her sorrows were a subject of pity instead of laughter. Cavoie was anything but delighted with her idolatrous fondness, which she seemed to glory in manifesting; and he strove to rid himself of it by being obdurate, and even downright harsh. In spite of his repulsive conduct, however, she became every day fonder. When he went to the army, her tears and cries were incessant, and during the whole of the campaign she obstinately abstained from adorning her person in the smallest degree. It was not till he came back that she resumed her customary style of dress. His being committed to the Bastile renewed her grief. “She spoke to the king in behalf of Cavoie,” says St. Simon, “and not being able to obtain his deliverance, she scolded his majesty so violently as to abuse him. The king laughed heartily, at which she was so much incensed that she threatened him with her nails, and he thought it prudent not to run the risk of them. He every day dined and supped publicly with the queen; at dinner it was usual for the Duchess of Richelieu and the queen’s maids of honour to wait upon them. On these occasions, Coetlogon never would hand any thing to the king; either she avoided him, or she flatly refused, and told him that he did not deserve