he persons
to whom I intrusted it, nor did it until after my rupture with them. By
this single fact they are judged; without exculpating myself from the
blame I deserve, I prefer it to that resulting from their malignity. My
fault is great, but it was an error. I have neglected my duty, but the
desire of doing an injury never entered my heart; and the feelings of a
father were never more eloquent in favor of children whom he never saw.
But: betraying the confidence of friendship, violating the most sacred of
all engagements, publishing secrets confided to us, and wantonly
dishonoring the friend we have deceived, and who in detaching himself
from our society still respects us, are not faults, but baseness of mind,
and the last degree of heinousness.

I have promised my confession and not my justification; on which account
I shall stop here. It is my duty faithfully to relate the truth, that of
the reader to be just; more than this I never shall require of him.

The marriage of M. de Chenonceaux rendered his mother's house still more
agreeable to me, by the wit and merit of the new bride, a very amiable
young person, who seemed to distinguish me amongst the scribes of M.
Dupin. She was the only daughter of the Viscountess de Rochechouart, a
great friend of the Comte de Friese, and consequently of Grimm's who was
very attentive to her. However, it was I who introduced him to her
daughter; but their characters not suiting each other, this connection
was not of long duration; and Grimm, who from that time aimed at what was
solid, preferred the mother, a woman of the world, to the daughter who
wished for steady friends, such as were agreeable to her, without
troubling her head about the least intrigue, or making any interest
amongst the great. Madam Dupin no longer finding in Madam de Chenonceaux
all the docility she expected, made her house very disagreeable to her,
and Madam de Chenonceaux, having a great opinion of her own merit, and,
perhaps, of her birth, chose rather to give up the pleasures of society,
and remain almost alone in her apartment, than to submit to a yoke she
was not disposed to bear. This species of exile increased my attachment
to her, by that natural inclination which excites me to approach the
wretched, I found her mind metaphysical and reflective, although at times
a little sophistical; her conversation, which was by no means that of a
young woman coming from a convent, had for me the greatest