ses' among the people with whom she
lived. The varieties were many, from the foolishness of her companion,
Mademoiselle Sanadon, who would do nothing but imitate her--'elle fait
des definitions,' she wails--to that of the lady who hoped to prove her
friendship by unending presents of grapes and pears--'comme je n'y tate
pas, cela diminue mes scrupules du peu de gout que j'ai pour elle.' Then
there were those who were not quite fools but something very near it.
'Tous les Matignon sont des sots,' said somebody one day to the Regent,
'excepte le Marquis de Matignon.' 'Cela est vrai,' the Regent replied,
'il n'est pas sot, mais on voit bien qu'il est le fils d'un sot.' Madame
du Deffand was an expert at tracing such affinities. For instance, there
was Necker. It was clear that Necker was not a fool, and yet--what was
it? Something was the matter--yes, she had it: he made you feel a fool
yourself--'l'on est plus bete avec lui que l'on ne l'est tout seul.' As
she said of herself: 'elle est toujours tentee d'arracher les masques
qu'elle rencontre.' Those blind, piercing eyes of hers spied out
unerringly the weakness or the ill-nature or the absurdity that lurked
behind the gravest or the most fascinating exterior; then her fingers
began to itch, and she could resist no longer--she gave way to her
besetting temptation. It is impossible not to sympathise with Rousseau's
remark about her--'J'aimai mieux encore m'exposer au fleau de sa haine
qu'a celui de son amitie.' There, sitting in her great Diogenes-tub of
an armchair--her 'tonneau' as she called it--talking, smiling,
scattering her bons mots, she went on through the night, in the
remorseless secrecy of her heart, tearing off the masks from the faces
that surrounded her. Sometimes the world in which she lived displayed
itself before her horrified inward vision like some intolerable and
meaningless piece of clock-work mechanism:

J'admirais hier au soir la nombreuse compagnie qui etait chez moi;
hommes et femmes me paraissaient des machines a ressorts, qui
allaient, venaient, parlaient, riaient, sans penser, sans
reflechir, sans sentir; chacun jouait son role par habitude: Madame
la Duchesse d'Aiguillon crevait de rire, Mme. de Forcalquier
dedaignait tout, Mme. de la Valliere jabotait sur tout. Les hommes
ne jouaient pas de meilleurs roles, et moi j'etais abimee dans les
reflexions les plus noires; je pensai que j'avais passe ma vie dans