1), she claims
to have been the first to say _vraie_ when she meant
sincere, loyal. "Il y a longtemps que je dis que vous etes
_vraie_"]

The famous friends were excluded by their physical conditions from the
activities of life. Mme de La Fayette, who was perhaps something of a
hypochondriac, tossed all day among the pillows of that golden bed
with the extravagance of which the austerity of Mme de Maintenon
upbraided her. La Rochefoucauld, tormented by the gout, lay stretched
at her side in his long chair, and the days went by in endless
discussion, endless balancing of right and wrong, much gossip, much
reading of books new and old, and not a little consultation of artist
with artist. They kept their secrets well, and no curiosity of
successive critics has been able to discover how much of La
Rochefoucauld is hidden in the pages of "La Princesse de Cleves", the
earliest of the modern novels of the world, nor how much of Mme de La
Fayette in the revised and re-revised text of the "Maximes." [8] But we
know that she was no less sagacious and no less an enemy to illusion
than he was, and those are probably not far wrong who have detected a
softening influence from her conversation on the late genius of La
Rochefoucauld.

In 1675 Mme de Thiange presented to the Duke du Maine a toy which has
long ago disappeared, and for the recovery of which I would gladly
exchange many a grand composition of painting and sculpture. It was a
sort of gilded doll's house, representing the interior of a _salon_.
Over the door was written, "Chambre des Sublimes." Inside were wax
portrait-figures of living celebrities, the Duke du Maine in one
arm-chair; in another La Rochefoucauld, who was handing him some
manuscript. By the arm-chairs were standing Bossuet, then Bishop of
Condom, and La Rochefoucauld's eldest son, M. de Marcillac. At the
other end of the alcove Mme de La Fayette and Mme de Thiange were
reading verses together. Outside the balustrade, Boileau with a
pitchfork was preventing seven or eight bad poets from entering, to
the amusement and approval of Racine, who was already inside, and of
La Fontaine, who was invited to come forward. The likeness of these
little waxen images is said to have been perfect, and there can hardly
be fancied a relic of that fine society which would be more valuable
to us in re-establishing its social character. We know not what became
of it in the next generation. No doubt, the wax grew