At the time of which we write, M. de Létorière occupied a charming detached house, whose garden opened on the ramparts, not far from the Pavilion of Hanover, one of the dependencies of the dwelling of the Marshal Richelieu. The habitation of the Marquis resembled much more a palacette, as it was then called, than a chateau. Everything therein was elegant, sumptuous, mysterious and retired. In the summer, great trees enclosed the garden with a girdle of verdure impenetrable to the eye; in the winter, an immense curtain of ivy, very artistically disposed on trellises built in the form of trees, rose above the walls, and replaced the foliage of the warmer season. On the day we speak of, Létorière was in his library awaiting the expected arrival of Dominique from Vienna. The princes against whom the Marquis was at law, had very great influence in Germany. The Aulic Council was said to be in their interests, and single-handed, Létorière had to wrestle against these formidable adversaries. The old professor, when he set out, was furnished with a letter from the king to the French Ambassador at Vienna. Louis XV. informed his representative that he took great interest in M. de Létorière's success in the lawsuit, and ordered him to favor with all his power the secret inquiries of the Marquis's confidential agent. Soon the noise of a post-chaise was heard, and immediately after Jean-Francois Dominique entered Létorière's library. "Well! Dominique, have we any chance?" said the Marquis, cordially embracing him. "I doubt it . . . Monsieur the Marquis." . . . "Are these Aulic councillors intractable?" "Alas! I think so, but for the recollection of Alcibiades, who, after all, seduced Tisapherne! . . . But I believe these Germans yet more rebellious, yet more unapproachable than that distrustful satrap!" "And who are these councillors? Have you gained some information about them?" "I have enough. . . . I have too much information! That is why I am so grieved. These councillors are three in number: the Baron Henferester, the greatest huntsman and most redoubtable drinker in all Germany; a Nimrod who only quits his forests to sit in the council twice a week. Then there is the Doctor Aloysius Sphex, a learned commentator of Persius, I believe, always bristling with Latin, like a porcupine; and lastly, the Seigneur Flachsinfingen, an ostrich-like gourmand, governed by his wife, the leanest, most peevish, sourest Protestant that ever wore a Bible attached to her side by a silver chain . . ." "Your portraits are drawn by a masterly hand, Dominique; they are sufficiently unattractive. And these gentlemen of the council are absolutely in the interest of the German princes?" "Yes, entirely so. In this single case these three councillors, who detest each other cordially, undoubtedly on account of the difference of their tastes, are of one mind,--a rare thing, for generally the support of one would be sufficient to cause the opposition of the others."