the same opinion, and so perfectly convinced
of its being well founded, that since my return to Paris I confided
to him the manuscript of my confessions. The suspicious J. J.
never suspected perfidy and falsehood until he had been their
victim.]

From this time I thought I might depend on the services of Madam the
Baroness of Beuzenval, and the Marchioness of Broglie, and that they
would not long leave me without resource. In this I was not deceived.
But I must now speak of my first visit to Madam Dupin, which produced
more lasting consequences.

Madam Dupin was, as every one in Paris knows, the daughter of Samuel
Bernard and Madam Fontaine. There were three sisters, who might be
called the three graces. Madam de la Touche who played a little prank,
and went to England with the Duke of Kingston. Madam Darby, the eldest
of the three; the friend, the only sincere friend of the Prince of Conti;
an adorable woman, as well by her sweetness and the goodness of her
charming character, as by her agreeable wit and incessant cheerfulness.
Lastly, Madam Dupin, more beautiful than either of her sisters, and the
only one who has not been reproached with some levity of conduct.

She was the reward of the hospitality of M. Dupin, to whom her mother
gave her in marriage with the place of farmer general and an immense
fortune, in return for the good reception he had given her in his
province. When I saw her for the first time, she was still one of the
finest women in Paris. She received me at her toilette, her arms were
uncovered, her hair dishevelled, and her combing-cloth ill-arranged.
This scene was new to me; it was too powerful for my poor head, I became
confused, my senses wandered; in short, I was violently smitten by Madam
Dupin.

My confusion was not prejudicial to me; she did not perceive it. She
kindly received the book and the author; spoke with information of my
plan, sung, accompanied herself on the harpsichord, kept me to dinner,
and placed me at table by her side. Less than this would have turned my
brain; I became mad. She permitted me to visit her, and I abused the
permission. I went to see her almost every day, and dined with her twice
or thrice a week. I burned with inclination to speak, but never dared
attempt it. Several circumstances increased my natural timidity.
Permission to visit in an opulent family was a door open to fortune, and
in my situation I was unwilling to run th