Being entirely taken up with great ladies, Leander overlooked
their waiting-maids, and did not trouble himself to show them any
attentions or gallantries--wherein he made a sad mistake--for if
the pistoles he gave to Jeanne, with his precious epistle, had been
supplemented by a few kisses and compliments, she would have taken far
more pains to execute his commission. As she held the letter carelessly
in her hand, the marquis chanced to pass by, and asked her idly what she
had got there.
"Oh! nothing much," she answered scornfully, "only a note from Mr.
Leander to Mme. la Marquise."
"From Leander? that jackanapes who plays the lover in the Rodomontades
of Captain Matamore? What in the world can HE have to say to Mme. la
Marquise? Doubtless he asks for a gratuity!"
"I don't think so," said the spiteful waiting-maid; "when he gave me
this letter he sighed, and rolled up his eyes like a love-sick swain."
"Give me the letter," said the marquis, "_I_ will answer it--and
don't say anything about it to your mistress. Such chaps are apt to be
impertinent--they are spoiled by admiration, and sometimes presume upon
it."
The marquis, who dearly loved a joke, amused himself by answering
Leander's extraordinary epistle with one in much the same style--written
in a delicate, lady-like hand upon perfumed paper, and sealed with a
fanciful device--altogether a production well calculated to deceive the
poor devil, and confirm him in his ridiculous fancies.
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