ant in its effects, though more lively and durable than that I
had conceived for M. Bacle. I loved to see him, to hear him, all his
actions appeared charming, everything he said was an oracle to me, but
the enchantment did not extend far enough to disable me from quitting
him. I spoke of him with transport to Madam de Warrens, Le Maitre
likewise spoke in his praise, and she consented we should bring him to
her house. This interview did not succeed; he thought her affected, she
found him a libertine, and, alarmed that I had formed such an ill
acquaintance, not only forbade me bringing him there again, but likewise
painted so strongly the danger I ran with this young man, that I became a
little more circumspect in giving in to the attachment; and very happily,
both for my manners and wits, we were soon separated.

M. le Maitre, like most of his profession, loved good wine; at table he
was moderate, but when busy in his closet he must drink. His maid was so
well acquainted with this humor that no sooner had he prepared his paper
to compose, and taken his violoncello, than the bottle and glass arrived,
and was replenished from time to time: thus, without being ever
absolutely intoxicated, he was usually in a state of elevation. This was
really unfortunate, for he had a good heart, and was so playful that
Madam de Warrens used to call him the kitten. Unhappily, he loved his
profession, labored much and drank proportionately, which injured his
health, and at length soured his temper. Sometimes he was gloomy and
easily offended, though incapable of rudeness, or giving offence to any
one, for never did he utter a harsh word, even to the boys of the choir:
on the other hand, he would not suffer another to offend him, which was
but just: the misfortune was, having little understanding, he did not
properly discriminate, and was often angry without cause.

The Chapter of Geneva, where so many princes and bishops formerly thought
it an honor to be seated, though in exile it lost its ancient splendor,
retained (without any diminution) its pride. To be admitted, you must
either be a gentleman or Doctor of Sorbonne. If there is a pardonable
pride, after that derived from personal merit, it is doubtless that
arising from birth, though, in general, priests having laymen in their
service treat them with sufficient haughtiness, and thus the canons
behaved to poor Le Maitre. The chanter, in particular, who was called
the Abbe de V