shown her by her intimates in her younger days, and a
respect and admiration took its place. She was no longer "Ninon," but
"Mademoiselle de l'Enclos." Her social circle widened, and instead of
being limited to men exclusively, ladies eagerly took advantage of the
privilege accorded them to frequent the charming circle. That circle
certainly became celebrated. The beautiful woman had lived the life of
an earnest Epicurean in her own way, regardless of society's
conventionalities, and had apparently demonstrated that her way was
the best. She had certainly attained a long life, and what was more to
the purpose she had preserved her beauty and the attractions of her
person were as strong as when she was in her prime. Reason enough why
the women of the age thronged her apartments to learn the secret of
her life. Moreover, her long and intimate associations with the most
remarkable men of the century had not failed to impart to her, in
addition to her exquisite femininity, the wisdom of a sage and the
polish of a man of the world.

Madame de La Fayette, that "rich field so fertile in fruits," as Ninon
said of her, and Madame de la Sabliere, "a lovely garden enameled with
eye-charming flowers," another of Ninon's descriptive metaphors,
passed as many hours as they could in her society with the illustrious
Duke de la Rochefoucauld, who, up to the time of his death honored
Ninon with his constant friendship and his devoted esteem. Even Madame
de Sevigne put aside her envy and jealousy and never wearied of the
pleasure of listening to the conversation of this wise beauty, in
company with her haughty daughter, Madame de Grignan, Madame de
Coulanges, Madame de Torp, and, strange to say, the Duchess de
Bouillon.

Her friends watched over her health with the tenderest care and
affection, and even her slightest indisposition brought them around
her with expressions of the deepest solicitude. They dreaded losing
her, for having had her so long among them they hoped to keep her
always, and they did, practically, for she outlived the most of them.
As proof of the anxiety of her friends and the delight they
experienced at her recovery from the slightest ailment, one
illustration will suffice.

On one occasion she had withdrawn from her friends for a single
evening, pleading indisposition. The next evening she reappeared and
her return was celebrated by an original poem written by no less a
personage than the Abbe Regnier-Desmarais,