ayed the same part, though
with less innocence; and like the _Misanthrope_, where the scene between
Alceste and Celimene is "une des plus fortes qui existant au theatre," he
was deeply entangled in the wily cruelties of scornful coquetry, and we
know that at times he suffered in "the hell of lovers" the torments of his
own _Jealous Prince_.

When this poet cast his fate with a troop of comedians, as the manager,
and whom he never would abandon, when at the height of his fortune, could
he avoid accustoming himself to the relaxed habits of that gay and
sorrowful race, who, "of imagination all compact," too often partake of
the passions they inspire in the scene? The first actress, Madame Bejard,
boasted that, with the exception of the poet, she had never dispensed her
personal favours but to the aristocracy. The constancy of Moliere was
interrupted by another actress, Du Parc; beautiful but insensible, she
only tormented the poet, and furnished him with some severe lessons for
the coquetry of his Celimene, in _Le Misanthrope_. The facility of the
transition of the tender passion had more closely united the susceptible
poet to Mademoiselle de Brie. But Madame Bejard, not content to be the
chief actress, and to hold her partnership in "the properties," to retain
her ancient authority over the poet, introduced, suddenly, a blushing
daughter, some say a younger sister, who had hitherto resided at Avignon,
and who she declared was the offspring of the count of Modena, by a secret
marriage. Armande Bejard soon attracted the paternal attentions of the
poet. She became the secret idol of his retired moments, while he fondly
thought that he could mould a young mind, in its innocence, to his own
sympathies. The mother and the daughter never agreed. Armande sought his
protection; and one day rushing into his study, declared that she would
marry her friend. The elder Bejard freely consented to avenge herself on
De Brie. De Brie was indulgent, though "the little creature," she
observed, was to be yoked to one old enough to be her father. Under the
same roof were now heard the voices of the three females, and Moliere
meditating scenes of feminine jealousies.

Moliere was fascinated by his youthful wife; her lighter follies charmed:
two years riveted the connubial chains. Moliere was a husband who was
always a lover. The actor on the stage was the very man he personated.
Mademoiselle Moliere, as she was called by the public, was the Luc