did not make quite so rapid a
progress; he made but few advances, and was far from having that haughty
presumption which prosperity afterwards gave him. The next day at
dinner, the conversation turned upon music; he spoke well on the subject.
I was transported with joy when I learned from him he could play an
accompaniment on the harpsichord. After dinner was over music was
introduced, and we amused ourselves the rest of the afternoon on the
harpischord of the prince. Thus began that friendship which, at first,
was so agreeable to me, afterwards so fatal, and of which I shall
hereafter have so much to say.

At my return to Paris, I learned the agreeable news that Diderot was
released from the dungeon, and that he had on his parole the castle and
park of Vincennes for a prison, with permission to see his friends. How
painful was it to me not to be able instantly to fly to him! But I was
detained two or three days at Madam Dupin's by indispensable business.
After ages of impatience, I flew to the arms of my friend. He was not
alone: D' Alembert and the treasurer of the Sainte Chapelle were with
him. As I entered I saw nobody but himself, I made but one step, one
cry; I riveted my face to his: I pressed him in my arms, without speaking
to him, except by tears and sighs: I stifled him with my affection and
joy. The first thing he did, after quitting my arms, was to turn himself
towards the ecclesiastic, and say: "You see, sir, how much I am beloved
by my friends." My emotion was so great, that it was then impossible for
me to reflect upon this manner of turning it to advantage; but I have
since thought that, had I been in the place of Diderot, the idea he
manifested would not have been the first that would have occurred to me.

I found him much affected by his imprisonment. The dungeon had made a
terrible impression upon his mind, and, although he was very agreeably
situated in the castle, and at liberty to, walk where he pleased in the
park, which was not inclosed even by a wall, he wanted the society of his
friends to prevent him from yielding to melancholy. As I was the person
most concerned for his sufferings, I imagined I should also be the
friend, the sight of whom would give him consolation; on which account,
notwithstanding very pressing occupations, I went every two days at
farthest, either alone, or accompanied by his wife, to pass the afternoon
with him.

The heat of the summer was this year (1749)