Very strangely, none of the noble actions of the Marquis remained unknown to his mysterious protector. A little note arrived by post, containing these words . . .--"It is well . . . continue . . . you are always watched." . . . At other times he received suggestions full of wisdom: he was recommended to enjoy the pleasures of the world and of his age, but always to preserve the integrity and loyalty of his character; for _on that his future depended._ At still other times, Létorière was advised to accomplish himself in all the exercises of a gentleman. He heeded this counsel, and soon excelled in fencing, riding, and all the games which require agility and dexterity. Sometimes these letters, which revealed a growing and enduring affection, reached the Marquis by charming and unexpected means; at one time in a beautiful Sèvres vase, filled with flowers, which an unknown person left with the porter; at another, a perfume-bag, wonderfully embroidered with his arms and cypher, would be found in his pocket on his return from a game of tennis. This singular correspondence had lasted nearly a year, when Létorière gained his lawsuit against the Intendancy of Xaintonge. The day after judgment was given, a groom, in the livery of the Marquis, brought him two magnificent English horses, which were just then coming into fashion. Their harness and equipments were marvels of richness and elegance. A letter, in these words, accompanied the gift: "Your lawsuit is gained; you can now live as is becoming a gentleman of your rank. You will go to Chévin, the genealogist; he will arrange your titles to nobility; you will deposit them in the archives, in order to be presented to the king, and to have the _entrée_ to the court. You will undoubtedly have the honor of hunting with his majesty. These horses will serve you. Your conduct is satisfactory." To all Létorière's questions, the groom's only answer was that an unknown person had bought the horses of Gabart, a famous dealer of that day, adding that he would, in a short time, bring the equipments. As to the unknown man, he was clothed in black, rather stout, and about fifty years old. Some time after this new surprise, the Marquis received the following note: "Go this evening to the opera ball; wait near the King's Corner between twelve and one o'clock; wear a black domino, and attach to it a blue and white ribbon." Létorière had never been to an opera ball in his life. Though not leading the life of a recluse, he had hitherto employed his time in his academical studies, in walking with Dominique, in long readings of Greek and Latin poets, and frequent attendance at the Comédie Française.