ortunity to say to one of these gentlemen, that Madam de
Warrens was a prude, that she dressed ill, and particularly that she
covered her neck like a tradeswoman. "O, for that matter," replied the
person she was speaking to (who was fond of a joke), "she has good
reason, for I know she is marked with a great ugly rat on her bosom, so
naturally, that it even appears to be running." Hatred, as well as love,
renders its votaries credulous. Madam de Menthon resolved to make use of
this discovery, and one day, while Madam de Warrens was at cards with
this lady's ungrateful favorite, she contrived, in passing behind her
rival, almost to overset the chair she sat on, and at the same instant,
very dexterously displaced her handkerchief; but instead of this hideous
rat, the gentleman beheld a far different object, which it was not more
easy to forget than to obtain a sight of, and which by no means answered
the intentions of the lady.

I was not calculated to engross the attention of Madam de Menthon, who
loved to be surrounded by brilliant company; notwithstanding she bestowed
some attention on me, not for the sake of my person, which she certainly
did not regard, but for the reputation of wit which I had acquired, and
which might have rendered me convenient to her predominant inclination.
She had a very lively passion for ridicule, and loved to write songs and
lampoons on those who displeased her: had she found me possessed of
sufficient talents to aid the fabrication of her verses, and complaisance
enough to do so, we should presently have turned Chambery upside down;
these libels would have been traced to their source, Madam de Menthon
would have saved herself by sacrificing me, and I should have been cooped
up in prison, perhaps, for the rest of my life, as a recompense for
having figured away as the Apollo of the ladies. Fortunately, nothing of
this kind happened; Madam de Menthon made me stay for dinner two or three
days, to chat with me, and soon found I was too dull for her purpose.
I felt this myself, and was humiliated at the discovery, envying the
talents of my friend Venture; though I should rather have been obliged to
my stupidity for keeping me out of the reach of danger. I remained,
therefore, Madam de Menthon's daughter's singing-master, and nothing
more! but I lived happily, and was ever well received at Chambery, which
was a thousand times more desirable than passing for a wit with her, and
for a serpent