y for what I had
said, at which she seemed to be alarmed. She made a remark of which I so
strongly felt the justness that I determined never again to touch upon
the subject: this was, that the long habit of living at court made that
life necessary, that it was become a matter of amusement for M. de
Luxembourg, and that the retirement I proposed to him would be less a
relaxation from care than an exile, in which inactivity, weariness and
melancholy would soon put an end to his existence. Although she must
have perceived I was convinced, and ought to have relied upon the promise
I made her, and which I faithfully kept, she still seemed to doubt of it;
and I recollect that the conversations I afterwards had with the marechal
were less frequent and almost always interrupted.

Whilst my stupidity and awkwardness injured me in her opinion, persons
whom she frequently saw and most loved, were far from being disposed to
aid me in gaining what I had lost. The Abbe de Boufflers especially, a
young man as lofty as it was possible for a man to be, never seemed well
disposed towards me; and besides his being the only person of the society
of Madam de Luxembourg who never showed me the least attention, I thought
I perceived I lost something with her every time he came to the castle.
It is true that without his wishing this to be the case, his presence
alone was sufficient to produce the effect; so much did his graceful and
elegant manner render still more dull my stupid propositi. During the
first two years he seldom came to Montmorency, and by the indulgence of
Madam de Luxembourg I had tolerably supported myself, but as soon as his
visits began to be regular I was irretrievably lost. I wished to take
refuge under his wing, and gain his friendship; but the same awkwardness
which made it necessary I should please him prevented me from succeeding
in the attempt I made to do it, and what I did with that intention
entirely lost me with Madam de Luxembourg, without being of the least
service to me with the abbe. With his understanding he might have
succeeded in anything, but the impossibility of applying himself, and his
turn for dissipation, prevented his acquiring a perfect knowledge of any
subject. His talents are however various, and this is sufficient for the
circles in which he wishes to distinguish himself. He writes light
poetry and fashionable letters, strums on the cithern, and pretends to
draw with crayon. He took it i