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The young man so justly and gently reproved dares to protest; thereupon Scudéri returns to the charge; he calls to his assistance the Eminent Academy; "Pronounce, O my Judges, a decree worthy of your eminence, which will give all Europe to know that Le Cid is not the chef-d'oeuvre of the greatest man in France, but the least judicious performance of M. Corneille himself.

Possibly Brusson, by revealing his secret, or otherwise, may manage to dispel the suspicion which is on him at present. Then would be the time to resort to the King, who would not ask what was legally proved, but be guided by his own conviction." Mademoiselle Scuderi could not but agree with what d'Andilly's great experience dictated.

These writers, men who knew not what it was to have a country, men who had never enjoyed political rights, brought into fashion an offensive cant about patriotism and zeal for freedom. What the English Puritans did for the language of Christianity, what Scuderi did for the language of love, they did for the language of public spirit. By habitual exaggeration they made it mean.

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.

"What?" cried Mademoiselle Scuderi, "not for her father? that girl impossible!" "Oh!" continued La Regnie, "remember the Brinvilliers! You must pardon me, if by-and-by I have to carry off your protégée, and put her in the Conciergerie." Mademoiselle Scuderi shuddered at this grizly notion.

Olivier, brought before the Chambre Ardente, denied as Mademoiselle Scuderi learned with the utmost steadfastness the crime of which he was accused, and maintained that his master had been attacked in the street in his presence, and borne down, and that he had carried him home still alive, although he did not long survive. This agreed with Madelon's statement.

Perrault was shackling him. When high noon arrived, Mademoiselle Scuderi had to go to Madame Montansier, so the visit to René Cardillac had to be put off till the following day. But the young man was always present to her mind, and a species of dim remembrance seemed to be trying to arise in the depths of her being that she had, somehow and somewhen, seen that face and features before.

"You may think this strange," he continued, as they both gazed at him with amazement, Madame de Maintenon incredulous, and Mademoiselle Scuderi all anxiety as to how the matter was going to turn out, "but I tell you the truth, Madame la Marquise.

Mademoiselle Scuderi was at his feet, imploring mercy for Olivier Brusson. "What are you doing?" broke out the King, taking both her hands and making her sit down. "You take us by storm in a marvellous fashion. It is a most terrible story! Who is to answer for the truth of Brusson's extraordinary tale?"

The Greeks, about whom we hear so much, the Greeks and after the fashion of Scudéri we will cite at this point the classicist Dacier, in the seventh chapter of his Poetics the Greeks sometimes went so far as to have twelve or sixteen plays acted in a single day.