This illustrious Epicurean, finding one night a young girl in a fainting condition at his door, brought her into his house to succor her, moved by an impulse of humanity.  But as soon as she had recovered her senses, the philosopher’s heart was touched by her beauty.  To please her benefactor the girl played several selections on a harp and accompanied the instrument with a charming and seductive voice.

Desyvetaux, who was a passionate admirer of music, was captivated by this accomplishment, and suddenly conceived the desire to spend the rest of his days in the company of this charming singer.  It was not difficult for a girl who had been making it her business to frequent the wineshops of the suburbs with a brother, earning a precarious living by singing and playing on the harp, to accept such a proposition, and consent to bestow happiness upon an excessively amorous man, who offered to share with her a luxurious and tranquil life in one of the finest residences in the suburb Saint Germain.

Although most of his life had been passed at court as the governor of M. de Vendome, and tutor of Louis XIII, he had always desired to lead a life of peace and quiet in retirement.  The pleasures of a sylvan life which he had so often described in his lectures, ended by leading his mind in that direction.  The young girl he found on his doorstep had offered him his first opportunity to have a Phyllis to his Corydon and he eagerly embraced it.  Both yielded to the fancy, she dressed in the garb of a shepherdess, he playing the role of Corydon at the age of seventy years.

Sometimes stretched out on a carpet of verdure, he listened to the enchanting music she drew from her instrument, or drank in the sweet voice of his shepherdess singing melodious pastorals.  A flock of birds, charmed with this harmony, left their cages to caress with their wings, Dupuis’ harp, or intoxicated with joy, fluttered down into her bosom.  This little gallantry in which they had been trained was a delicious spectacle to the shepherd philosopher and intoxicated his senses.  He fancied he was guiding with his mistress innumerable bands of intermingled sheep; their conversation was in tender eclogues composed by them both extemporaneously, the attractive surroundings inspiring them with poetry.

Ninon was amazed when she found her “bon homme,” as she called him, in the startlingly original disguise of a shepherd, a crook in his hand, a wallet hanging by his side, and a great flapping straw hat, trimmed with rose colored silk on his head.  Her first impression was that he had taken leave of his senses, and she was on the point of shedding tears over the wreck of a once brilliant mind, when Desyvetaux, suspending his antics long enough to look about him, perceived her and rushed to her side with the liveliest expressions of joy.  He removed her suspicions of his sanity by explaining his metamorphosis in a philosophical fashion: 

“You know, my dear Ninon, there are certain tastes and pleasures which find their justification in a certain philosophy when they bear all the marks of moral innocence.  Nothing can be said against them but their singularity.  There are no amusements less dangerous than those which do not resemble those generally indulged in by the multitude.”