hese words he opened a small glass-door, and disappeared in the
neighbouring room.

When we were alone with Therese, she lost no time in opening the
conversation.

"Madam," cried she, "I trust you will have the goodness to excuse M.
Rousseau; he is very unwell; it is really extremely vexatious."

I replied that M. Rousseau had made his own excuses. Just then Therese,
wishing to give herself the appearance of great utility, cried out,

"Am I wanted there, M. Rousseau?"

"No, no, no," replied Jean Jacques, in a faint voice, which died away as
if at a distance.

He soon after re-entered the room.

"Madam," said he, "have the kindness to place your music in other hands
to copy; I am truly concerned that I cannot execute your wishes, but I
feel too ill to set about it directly."

I replied, that I was in no hurry; that I should be in Paris some time
yet, and that he might copy it at his leisure. It was then settled that
it should be ready within a week from that time; upon which I rose,
and ceremoniously saluting Therese, was conducted to the door by M.
Rousseau, whose politeness led him to escort me thither, holding his cap
in his hand. I retired, filled with admiration, respect, and pity.

When next I saw the duc d'Aiguillon, I could not refrain from relating
to him all that had happened. My recital inspired him with the most
lively curiosity to see Rousseau, whom he had never met in society. It
was then agreed, that when I went to fetch my music he should accompany
me, disguised in a similar manner to myself, and that I should pass him
off as my uncle. At the end of the eight days I repaired early as
before to Paris; the duke was not long in joining me there. He was so
inimitably well disguised, that no person would ever have detected the
most elegant nobleman of the court of France beneath the garb of a plain
country squire. We set out laughing like simpletons at the easy air
with which he wore his new costume; nevertheless our gaiety disappeared
as we reached the habitation of J. J. Rousseau. Spite of ourselves we
were compelled to honour and respect the man of talent and genius, who
preferred independence of ideas to riches, and before whom rank and
power were compelled to lay aside their unmeaning trappings ere they
could reach his presence. When we reached the fifth landing-place
I rang, and this time the door was opened by Therese, who told us M
Rousseau was out.

"But, madam," answered I, "I am here by