In a journey which Mademoiselle Scudéry, the Sappho of the French, made
along with her no less celebrated brother, a curious incident befell
them at an inn at a great distance from Paris. Their conversation
happened one evening to turn upon a romance which they were then jointly
composing, to the hero of which they had given the name of Prince
Mazare. “What shall we do with Prince Mazare?” said Mademoiselle Scudéry
to her brother. “Is it not better that he should fall by poison, than by
the poignard?” “It is not time yet,” replied the brother, “for that
business; when it is necessary we can despatch him as we please; but at
present we have not quite done with him.” Two merchants in the next
chamber, overhearing this conversation, concluded that they had formed a
conspiracy for the murder of some prince whose real name they disguised
under that of Mazare. Full of this important discovery, they imparted
their suspicions to the host and hostess; and it was resolved to inform
the police of what had happened. The police officers, eager to show
their diligence and activity, put the travellers immediately under
arrest, and conducted them under a strong escort to Paris. It was not
without difficulty and expense that they there procured their
liberation, and leave for the future to hold an unlimited right and
power over all the princes and personages in the realms of romance.