a mere mask for his master the minister;
but in all other cases it is an absurdity.

Cardinal de Bernis was never recalled; there is no instance of Louis XV.
having ever recalled a minister whom he had disgraced; but on the death
of Rezzonico he had to go to Rome to be present at the conclave, and
there he remained as French ambassador.

About this time Madame d'Urfe conceived a wish to make the acquaintance
of J. J. Rousseau, and we went to call upon him at Montmorenci, on the
pretext of giving him music to copy--an occupation in which he was very
skilled. He was paid twice the sum given to any other copyist, but he
guaranteed that the work should be faultlessly done. At that period of
his life copying music was the great writer's sole means of subsistence.

We found him to be a man of a simple and modest demeanour, who talked
well, but who was not otherwise distinguished either intellectually or
physically. We did not think him what would be called a good-natured man,
and as he was far from having the manners of good society Madame d'Urfe
did not hesitate to pronounce him vulgar. We saw the woman with whom he
lived, and of whom we had heard, but she scarcely looked at us. On our
way home we amused ourselves by talking about Rousseau's eccentric
habits.

I will here note down the visit of the Prince of Conti (father of the
gentleman who is now known as the Comte de la March) to Rousseau.

The prince--a good-natured man-went by himself to Montmorenci, on purpose
to spend a day in conversation with the philosopher, who was even then
famous. He found him in the park, accosted him, and said that he had come
to dine with him and to talk without restraint.

"Your highness will fare but badly," said Rousseau: "however, I will tell
them to lay another knife and fork."

The philosopher gave his instructions, and came out and rejoined the
prince, with whom he walked up and down for two or three hours. When it
was dinner-time he took the prince into his dining-room, where the table
was laid for three.

"Who is going to dine with us?" said the prince. "I thought we were to be
alone."

"The third party," said Rousseau, "is my other self--a being who is
neither my wife, nor my mistress, nor my servant-maid, nor my mother, nor
my daughter, but yet personates all these characters at once."

"I daresay, my dear fellow, I daresay; but as I came to dine with you
alone, I will not dine with your--other self, but will leave you