"Sha'n't we go to the Play, then, Monsieur le Marechal?
Play-hour is come!"-- Own Correspondent of the Newspaper proceeds:-- "The Marechal then went to the Play, and all his Officers with him; thinking their royal prize was close at their heels.

Marechal and Officers fairly ahead, coast once clear, their royal prize hastened back to The Raven, paid his bill; hastily summoning Schaffgotsch and the others within hearing; shot off like lightning; and was seen in Strasburg no more.

Algarotti, who was in the box with Broglio, heard the news in the house; regretful rumor among the Officers, 'He is gone!' In about a quarter of an hour Algarotti too slipped out; and vanished by extra post"-- straight towards Wesel; but could not overtake the King (whose road, in the latter part of it, went zigzag, on business as is likely), nor see him again till they met in that Town.

[From _Helden-Geschichte_ (i.

420-424), &c.] This is the Prose Truth of those fifty or eight-and-forty hours in Strasburg, which were so mythic and romantic at that time.