The scene with Master René inspired Mademoiselle Scuderi to write some pleasant verses, which she read to the King the following evening, at Madame de Maintenon's. Perhaps, for the sake of the picturing of Master René carrying off a bride of seventy-three--of unimpeachable quarterings--it was that she succeeded in conquering her feelings of the imminence of something mysterious and uncanny; but at all events she did so, completely--and the King laughed with all his heart, and vowed that Boileau Despreaux had met with his master. So La Scuderi's poem was reckoned the very wittiest that ever was written. Several months had elapsed, when chance so willed it that Mlle. Scuderi was crossing the Pont Neuf in the glass coach of the Duchesse de Montpensier. The invention of those delightful glass coaches was then so recent that the people came together in crowds whenever one of them made its appearance in the streets, consequently, a gaping crowd gathered about the Duchesse's carriage on the Pont Neuf, so that the horses could hardly make their way along. Suddenly Mlle. Scuderi heard a sound of quarrelling and curses, and saw a man making a way for himself through the crowd, by means of fisticuffs and blows in the ribs, and as he came near they were struck by the piercing eyes of a young face, deadly pale, and drawn by sorrow. This young man, gazing fixedly upon them, vigorously fought his way to them by help of fists and elbows, till he reached the carriage-door, threw it open with much violence, and flung a note into Mademoiselle Scuderi's lap; after which, he disappeared as he had come, distributing and receiving blows and fisticuffs. La Martinière, who was with her mistress, fell back fainting in the carriage with a shriek of terror as soon as she saw the young man. In vain Mademoiselle Scuderi pulled the string, and called out to the driver. He, as if urged by the foul fiend, kept lashing his horses till, scattering the foam from their nostrils, they kicked, plunged, and reared, finally thundering over the bridge at a rapid trot. Mademoiselle Scuderi emptied the contents of her smelling-bottle out over the fainting La Martinière, who at last opened her eyes, and, shuddering and quaking, clinging convulsively to her mistress, with fear and horror in her pale face, groaned out with difficulty, "For the love of the Virgin, what did that terrible man want? It was he who brought you the jewels on that awful night." Mademoiselle Scuderi calmed her, pointing out that nothing very dreadful had happened after all, and that the immediate business in hand was to ascertain the contents of the letter. She opened it, and read as follows:--