rose in
Italian. The syndic told me plainly that M. de Voltaire had pronounced my
translation to be a bad one.

My self-esteem was so wounded by this, and by his impoliteness in not
answering my letter, with which he could certainly find no fault,
whatever his criticism of my translation might be, that I became the
sworn enemy of the great Voltaire. I have censured him in all the works I
have published, thinking that in wronging him I was avenging myself, to
such an extent did passion blind me. At the present time I feel that even
if my works survive, these feeble stings of mine can hurt nobody but
myself. Posterity will class me amongst the Zoiluses whose own impotence
made them attack this great man to whom civilization and human happiness
owe so much. The only crime that can truthfully be alleged against
Voltaire is his attacks on religion. If he had been a true philosopher he
would never have spoken on such matters, for, even if his attacks were
based on truth, religion is necessary to morality, without which there
can be no happiness.

CHAPTER V

I Fall in Love With Veronique--Her Sister--Plot Against
Plot--My Victory--Mutual Disappointment

I have never liked eating by myself, and thus I have never turned hermit,
though I once thought of turning monk; but a monk without renouncing all
the pleasures of life lives well in a kind of holy idleness. This dislike
to loneliness made me give orders that the table should be laid for two,
and indeed, after supping with the marquis and myself, Veronique had some
right to expect as much, to say nothing of those rights which her wit and
beauty gave her.

I only saw Costa, and asked him what had become of Le Duc. He said he was
ill. "Then go behind the lady's chair," said I. He obeyed, but smiled as
he did so. Pride is a universal failing, and though a servant's pride is
the silliest of all it is often pushed to the greatest extremes.

I thought Veronique prettier than before. Her behaviour, now free and now
reserved, as the occasion demanded, shewed me that she was no new hand,
and that she could have played the part of a princess in the best
society. Nevertheless (so strange a thing is the heart of man), I was
sorry to find I liked her, and my only consolation was that her mother
would come and take her away before the day was over. I had adored
Rosalie, and my heart still bled at the thought of our parting.

The girl's mother came while we were still