they slipt quietly away, and at once, in the middle of the night, set out for Paris. On the road a wheel broke—a common occurrence of the time, and one in which the wheels probably were less in fault than the roads. Voltaire sent a peasant to Sceaux with a letter, begging an asylum from his old friend the Duchesse du Maine, now stricken in years. He was welcomed at once, was admitted with all due secrecy by a discreet steward, placed in a very private set of apartments, and waited on by a trusty valet, none else of the household knowing of his presence. At night, after the Duchess had gone to bed, and all the servants had withdrawn, Voltaire used to descend by a secret stair to her chamber (bed-chambers were places of comparatively public resort in those days); the confidential valet laid out his supper-table at the bedside; and the Duchess, who greatly delighted in his conversation, talked over old times with him. After supper he sometimes read to her a tale, composed during the day expressly for her amusement. The "Arabian Nights' Entertainments," introduced into France by Galland many years before, had rendered oriental romance popular. Voltaire had seen how English writers had made it the convenient vehicle of a moral lesson, as in Addison's "Vision of Mirza;" he now extended its use, in those light and sparkling romances, which are the most enduringly popular of his works. "Babouc," "Memnon," "Scarmentado," "Micromegas," and best of all, "Zadig," first saw the light at the delighted old princess's bedside.
While he was thus occupied, the Marquise was endeavouring to pay her play debt, and to soothe the resentment of the illustrious players, by some of whom diligent inquiry had been made for Voltaire, who was believed to
