ys so little attentive to these
things, that half the time she did not perceive them.

I was so taken up with my passion, that, seeing nothing but Sophia
(one of the names of Madam d'Houdetot),I did not perceive that I was
become the laughing-stock of the whole house, and all those who came to
it. The Baron d'Holbach, who never, as I heard of, had been at the
Chevrette, was one of the latter. Had I at that time been as mistrustful
as I am since become, I should strongly have suspected Madam d'Epinay to
have contrived this journey to give the baron the amusing spectacle of an
amorous citizen. But I was then so stupid that I saw not that even which
was glaring to everybody. My stupidity did not, however, prevent me from
finding in the baron a more jovial and satisfied appearance than
ordinary. Instead of looking upon me with his usual moroseness, he said
to me a hundred jocose things without my knowing what he meant. Surprise
was painted in my countenance, but I answered not a word: Madam d'Epinay
shook her sides with laughing; I knew not what possessed them.
As nothing yet passed the bounds of pleasantry, the best thing I could
had done, had I been in the secret, would have been to have humored the
joke. It is true I perceived amid the rallying gayety of the baron,
that his eyes sparkled with a malicious joy, which could have given me
pain had I then remarked it to the degree it has since occurred to my
recollection.

One day when I went to see Madam d'Houdetot, at Eaubonne, after her
return from one of her journeys to Paris, I found her melancholy, and
observed that she had been weeping. I was obliged to put a restraint on
myself, because Madam de Blainville, sister to her husband, was present;
but the moment I found an opportunity, I expressed to her my uneasiness.
"Ah," said she, with a sigh, "I am much afraid your follies will cost me
the repose of the rest of my days. St. Lambert has been informed of what
has passed, and ill informed of it. He does me justice, but he is vexed;
and what is still worse, he conceals from me a part of his vexation.
Fortunately I have not concealed from him anything relative to our
connection which was formed under his auspices. My letters, like my
heart, were full of yourself; I made him acquainted with everything,
except your extravagant passion, of which I hoped to cure you; and which
he imputes to me as a crime. Somebody has done us ill offices. I have
been injured, but