Not wishing to appear curious, or to annoy the unknown in any way, de Sigognac hastened to enter his own room--not however without having observed that the door of the tapestry-hung chamber stood ajar.

When he had closed his, he heard stealthy footsteps approaching, and presently a bolt shot home softly, then profound silence.
About an hour later, Leander opened his door as quietly as possible, looked carefully to see if the corridor was empty, and then, stepping as lightly and cautiously as a gipsy performing the famous egg-dance, traversed its whole length, reached the staircase, which he descended as noiselessly as the phantoms in a haunted castle, and passed out into the moonlight; he crept along in the shadow of the wall and of some thick shrubbery, went down the steps into the park, and made his way to a sort of bower, where stood a charming statue of the mischievous little god of love, with his finger on his lip--an appropriate presiding genius of a secret rendezvous, as this evidently must be.

Here he stopped and waited, anxiously watching the path by which he had come, and listening intently to catch the first sound of approaching footsteps.
We have already related how Leander, encouraged by the smile with which Mme.

la Marquise acknowledged his salutation, and convinced that she was smitten with his beauty and grace, had made bold to address a letter to her, which he bribed Jeanne to place secretly upon her mistress's toilet-table, where she would be sure to see it.

This letter we copy here at length, so as to give an idea of the style of composition employed by Leander in addressing the great ladies of whose favours he boasted so loudly.
"Madame, or rather fair goddess of beauty, do not blame anything but your own incomparable charms for this intrusion upon you.