dusty, and the
figures lost their heads and hands, and some petulant chatelaine
doomed the ruined treasure to the dustbin.

[Footnote 8: Bussy Rabutin writes to Mme de Sevigne that he
hears that La Rochefoucauld and Mme de La Fayette are
preparing "quelque chose de fort joli." This shows that
before "La Princess de Cleves" was finished the Duke's name
was identified with its composition.]

No mention of Mme de Sevigne is made in the inventory of the "Chambre
des Sublimes," and yet there is no one to whom we owe an exacter
portraiture of its inmates, nor one who was more worthy to animate its
golden recesses. For the last ten years of La Rochefoucauld's life she
was one of the closest observers of the famous sedentary friendship.
Unfortunately she tells us nothing about the original publication of
the "Maximes," for his name does not occur in her correspondence
before 1668, and does not abound there until 1670. Then we find her
for ever at the Duke's house, or meeting him at Mme de La Fayette's
bedside. He gratified her by warm and constant praise of Mme de
Grignan, whose letters were regularly read to the friends by her
infatuated mother. It is vexing that Mme de Sevigne, who might have
spared us two or three of her immortal pages, although she incessantly
mentions and even quotes La Rochefoucauld, generally refrains from
describing him. She and Mme de La Fayette were his guests in the
country on May 15, and the three wonderful companions walked in the
harmony of "nightingales, hawthorns, lilacs, fountains and fine
weather," or played with his pet white mouse. Such touches are rare,
and Paris seems best to suit what Mme de Sevigne admirably calls "the
grey-brown" thought of La Rochefoucauld.

In 1671 he had a terrible attack of the gout, accompanied by agonies
moral and physical which filled the ladies with alarm and pity. Better
in 1672, he was able to entertain company to hear Corneille read his
new tragedy of "Pulcherie" in January, and Moliere his new comedy,
"Les Femmes Savantes," in March. He was now, in premature old age, the
venerable figure in the group, the benevolent Nestor of the salons.
Let his detractors remember that Mme de Sevigne, who knew what she was
talking about, wrote that "he is the most lovable man I have ever
known," His sufferings, his disenchantments and disappointments, only
seemed to accentuate his beautiful patience. Just before his fatal
illness (January 31, 1