It is no matter, faid I, taking up a couple of the pairs next me, and putting them into my pocket. I was fenfible the beautiful Griffet had not ask'd above a single livre above the price-I wish'd she had ask'd a livre more, and was puzzling my brains how to bring the matter about- Do you think, my dear Sir, faid fhe, mistaking my embarraffment, that I could ask a fous too much of a strangerand of a stranger whofe politeness, more than his. want of gloves, has done me the honour to lay himself at my mercy?-Men croyez capable? Faith! not I, faid I; and if you were, you are welcome-fo counting the money into her hand, and with a lower bow than one generally makes to a fhopkeeper's wife, I went out, and her lad with his parcel followed me. SENT. JOURNEY, PAGE, 95 THE THE PIE MA N. SEEING a other fide of a street, in Versailles, as if he had fomething to fell, I bid La Fleur go up to him and enquire for the Count de B***'s hotel. La Fleur returned a little pale: and told me it was a Chevalier de St. Louis felling patés-It is impoffible, La Fleur! faid I. La Fleur could no more account for the phenomenon than myself; but perfifted in his ftory: he had feen the croix fet in gold, with its red ribband, he faid, tied to his button-hole-and had looked into his basket and feen the patés which the Chevalier was felling, fo could not be mistaken in that. Such a reverse in a man's life awakens a better principle than curiofity: I could not help looking for fome time at him as I fat in the remise-the more I looked at him, his croix and his basket, the ftronger they wove themselves into my brain -I got out of the remife and went towards him. He He was begirt with a clean linen apron which fell below his knees, and with a fort of a bib which went half way up his breaft; upon the top of this, but a little below the hem, hung his croix. His basket of little patés was covered over with a white damask napkin; another of the fame kind was spread at the bottom; and there was a look of propreté and neatnefs throughout; that one might have bought his patés of him, as much from appetite as fentiment. He made an offer of them to neither; but ftood ftill with them at the corner of a hotel, for those to buy who chose it, without folicitation. He was about forty-eight-of a sedate look, fomething approaching to gravity. I did not wonder. I went up rather to the ba.ket than him, and having lifted up the napkin and taken one of his patés into my hand-I begg'd he would explain the appearance which affected me. He told me in a few words, that the best part of his life had paffed in the fervice, in which, after fpending a small patrimony, he had obtained a company and the croix with it; but that, at the conclufion of the laft peace, his regiment being reformed reformed, and the whole corps, with those of fome other regiments, left without any provifion, -he found himself in a wide world without friends, without a livre-and indeed, faid he, without any thing but this-(pointing, as he said it, to his croix)-The poor Chevalier won my pity, and he finished the fcene with winning my efteem too. The king, he faid, was the most generous of princes, but his generofity could neither relieve or reward every one, and it was only his misfortune to be amongft the number. He had a little wife, he said, whom he loved, who did the patifferie; and added, he felt no difhonour in defending her and himself from want in this way-unlefs providence had offered him a better. It would be wicked to withhold a pleasure from the good, in paffing over what happened to this poor Chevalier of St. Louis about nine months after. It seems he ufually took his ftand near the iron gates which lead up to the palace, and as his croix had caught the eyes of numbers, numbers had made the fame enquiry which I had done He He had told them the fame story, and always with fo much modefty and good fenfe, that it had reached at laft the King's cars-who hearing the Chevalier had been a gallant officer, and respected by the whole regiment as a man of honour and integrity-he broke up his little trade by a pension of fifteen hundred livres a year. SENT. JOURNEY, PAGE, 148. As I have told this to please the reader, I beg he will allow me to relate another, out of its order, to please myfelf-the two ftories reflect light upon each other-and 'tis a pity they should be parted. THE |