frank and original manners, together
with her luxuriance of blonde hair, gained her the sobriquet of La Belle
Lionne. Nor must we forget Mlle. de Scudery, one of the most constant
literary lights of this salon, and in some sense its chronicler; nor the
fastidious Mme. de Sable.

The brightest ornament of the Hotel de Rambouillet, however, was Julie
d'Angennes, the petted daughter of the house, the devoted companion and
clever assistant of her mother. Her gaiety of heart, amiable temper,
ready wit, and gracious manners surrounded her with an atmosphere of
perpetual sunshine. Fertile in resources, of fine intelligence, winning
the love alike of men and women, she was the soul of the serious
conversations, as well as of the amusements which relieved them. These
amusements were varied and often original. They played little comedies.
They had mythological fetes, draping themselves as antique gods and
goddesses. Sometimes they indulged in practical jokes and surprises,
which were more laughable than dignified. Malherbe and Racan, the latter
sighing hopelessly over the attractions of the dignified Marquise, gave
her the romantic name of Arthenice, and forthwith the other members of
the coterie took some nom de parnasse, by which they were familiarly
known. They read the "Astree" of d'Urfe, that platonic dream of a
disillusioned lover; discussed the romances of Calprenede and the
sentimental Bergeries of Racan. Such Arcadian pictures seemed to have a
singular fascination for these courtly dames and plumed cavaliers. They
tried to reproduce them. Assuming the characters of the rather insipid
Strephons and florimels, they made love in pastoral fashion, with pipe
and lute--these rustic diversions serving especially to while away the
long summer days in the country at Rambouillet, at Chantilly, or at
Ruel. They improvised sonnets and madrigals; they praised each other in
verse; they wrote long letters on the slightest pretext. As a specimen
of the badinage so much in vogue, I quote from a letter written by
Voiture to one of the daughters of Mme. de Rambouillet, who was an
abbess, and had sent him a present of a cat.

"Madame, I was already so devoted to you that I supposed you knew there
was no need of winning me by presents, or trying to take me like a rat,
with a cat. Nevertheless, if there was anything in my thought that was
not wholly yours, the cat which you have sent me has captured it."
After a eulogy upon the cat, he adds