naturally communicative, loved to display its
feelings, whenever I encountered a similar disposition; but dry, cold
interrogatories, without any sign of blame or approbation on my answers,
gave me no confidence. Not being able to determine whether my discourse
was agreeable or displeasing, I was ever in fear, and thought less of
expressing my ideas, than of being careful not to say anything that might
seem to my disadvantage. I have since remarked that this dry method of
questioning themselves into people's characters is a common trick among
women who pride themselves on superior understanding. These imagine,
that by concealing their own sentiments, they shall the more easily
penetrate into those of others; being ignorant that this method destroys
the confidence so necessary to make us reveal them. A man, on being
questioned, is immediately on his guard: and if once he supposes that,
without any interest in his concerns, you only wish to set him a-talking,
either he entertains you with lies, is silent, or, examining every word
before he utters it, rather chooses to pass for a fool, than to be the
dupe of your curiosity. In short, it is ever a bad method to attempt to
read the hearts of others by endeavoring to conceal our own.

Madam de Vercellis never addressed a word to me which seemed to express
affection, pity, or benevolence. She interrogated me coldly, and my
answers were uttered with so much timidity, that she doubtless
entertained but a mean opinion of my intellects, for latterly she never
asked me any questions, nor said anything but what was absolutely
necessary for her service. She drew her judgment less from what I really
was, than from what she had made me, and by considering me as a footman
prevented my appearing otherwise.

I am inclined to think I suffered at that time by the same interested
game of concealed manoeuvre, which has counteracted me throughout my
life, and given me a very natural aversion for everything that has the
least appearance of it. Madam de Vercellis having no children, her
nephew, the Count de la Roque, was her heir, and paid his court
assiduously, as did her principal domestics, who, seeing her end
approaching, endeavored to take care of themselves; in short, so many
were busy about her, that she could hardly have found time to think of
me. At the head of her household was a M. Lorenzy, an artful genius,
with a still more artful wife; who had so far insinuated herself int