ngth took courage, and called upon Madam de Beuzenval. She received me
with kindness; and Madam de Broglio entering the chamber, she said to
her: "Daughter, this is M. Rousseau, of whom Father Castel has spoken to
us." Madam de Broglie complimented me upon my work, and going to her
harpsichord proved to me she had already given it some attention.
Perceiving it to be about one o'clock, I prepared to take my leave.
Madam de Beuzenval said to me: "You are at a great distance from the
quarter of the town in which you reside; stay and dine here." I did not
want asking a second time. A quarter of an hour afterwards,
I understood, by a word, that the dinner to which she had invited me was
that of her servants' hall. Madam de Beuzenval was a very good kind of
woman, but of a confined understanding, and too full of her illustrious
Polish nobility: she had no idea of the respect due to talents. On this
occasion, likewise, she judged me by my manner rather than by my dress,
which, although very plain, was very neat, and by no means announced a
man to dine with servants. I had too long forgotten the way to the place
where they eat to be inclined to take it again. Without suffering my
anger to appear, I told Madam de Beuzenval that I had an affair of a
trifling nature which I had just recollected obliged me to return home,
and I immediately prepared to depart. Madam de Broglie approached her
mother, and whispered in her ear a few words which had their effect.
Madam de Beuzenval rose to prevent me from going, and said, "I expect
that you will do us the honor to dine with us." In this case I thought
to show pride would be a mark of folly, and I determined to stay. The
goodness of Madam de Broglie had besides made an impression upon me, and
rendered her interesting in my eyes. I was very glad to dine with her,
and hoped, that when she knew me better, she would not regret having
procured me that honor. The President de Lamoignon, very intimate in the
family, dined there also. He, as well as Madam de Broglie, was a master
of all the modish and fashionable small talk jargon of Paris. Poor Jean
Jacques was unable to make a figure in this way. I had sense enough not
to pretend to it, and was silent. Happy would it have been for me, had I
always possessed the same wisdom; I should not be in the abyss into which
I am now fallen. I was vexed at my own stupidity, and at being unable to
justify to Madam de Broglie what she had don