approached her
mother, and whispered in her ear a few words which had their effect.
Madam de Beuzenval rose to prevent me from going, and said, "I expect
that you will do us the honor to dine with us." In this case I thought
to show pride would be a mark of folly, and I determined to stay. The
goodness of Madam de Broglie had besides made an impression upon me, and
rendered her interesting in my eyes. I was very glad to dine with her,
and hoped, that when she knew me better, she would not regret having
procured me that honor. The President de Lamoignon, very intimate in the
family, dined there also. He, as well as Madam de Broglie, was a master
of all the modish and fashionable small talk jargon of Paris. Poor Jean
Jacques was unable to make a figure in this way. I had sense enough not
to pretend to it, and was silent. Happy would it have been for me, had I
always possessed the same wisdom; I should not be in the abyss into which
I am now fallen. I was vexed at my own stupidity, and at being unable to
justify to Madam de Broglie what she had done in my favor.

After dinner I thought of my ordinary resource. I had in my pocket an
epistle in verse, written to Parisot during my residence at Lyons. This
fragment was not without some fire, which I increased by my manner of
reading, and made them all three shed tears. Whether it was vanity, or
really the truth, I thought the eyes of Madam de Broglie seemed to say to
her mother: "Well, mamma, was I wrong in telling you this man was fitter
to dine with us than with your women?" Until then my heart had been
rather burdened, but after this revenge I felt myself satisfied. Madam
de Broglie, carrying her favorable opinion of me rather too far, thought
I should immediately acquire fame in Paris, and become a favorite with
fine ladies. To guide my inexperience she gave me the confessions of the
Count de -----. "This book," said she, "is a Mentor, of which you will
stand in need in the great world. You will do well by sometimes
consulting it." I kept the book upwards of twenty years with a sentiment
of gratitude to her from whose hand I had received it, although I
frequently laughed at the opinion the lady seemed to have of my merit in
gallantry. From the moment I had read the work, I was desirous of
acquiring the friendship of the author. My inclination led me right; he
is the only real friend I ever possessed amongst men of letters.

[I have so long been of