M. Charon, who was a counsellor, and in charge
of a suit between Madame d'Urfe and her daughter Madame du Chatelet, whom
she disliked heartily. The old counsellor had been the favoured lover of
the marchioness forty years before, and he thought himself bound by the
remembrance of their love-passages to support the cause of his old
sweetheart. In those days French magistrates thought they had a right to
take the side of their friends, or of persons in whom they had an
interest, sometimes for friendship's sake, and sometimes for a monetary
consideration; they thought, in fact, that they were justified in selling
justice.

M. Charon bored me like the others, as was natural, considering we had no
two tastes in common.

The scene was changed the next day when I was amused with the company of
M. de Viarme, a young counsellor, a nephew of Madame d'Urfe's, and his
pretty and charming wife. He was the author of the "Remonstrances to the
King," a work which got him a great reputation, and had been read eagerly
by the whole town. He told me that the business of a counsellor was to
oppose everything done by the crown, good and bad. His reasons for this
theory were those given by all minorities, and I do not think I need
trouble my readers with them.

The most enjoyable dinner I had was with Madame de Gergi, who came with
the famous adventurer, known by the name of the Count de St. Germain.
This individual, instead of eating, talked from the beginning of the meal
to the end, and I followed his example in one respect as I did not eat,
but listened to him with the greatest attention. It may safely be said
that as a conversationalist he was unequalled.

St. Germain gave himself out for a marvel and always aimed at exciting
amazement, which he often succeeded in doing. He was scholar, linguist,
musician, and chemist, good-looking, and a perfect ladies' man. For
awhile he gave them paints and cosmetics; he flattered them, not that he
would make them young again (which he modestly confessed was beyond him)
but that their beauty would be preserved by means of a wash which, he
said, cost him a lot of money, but which he gave away freely.

He had contrived to gain the favour of Madame de Pompadour, who had
spoken about him to the king, for whom he had made a laboratory, in which
the monarch--a martyr to boredom--tried to find a little pleasure or
distraction, at all events, by making dyes. The king had given him a
suite of rooms at Cha