She was, in fact, so absent, and always so little attentive to these things, that half the time she did not perceive them.

I was so taken up with my passion, that, seeing nothing but Sophia (one of the names of Madam d’Houdetot),I did not perceive that I was become the laughing-stock of the whole house, and all those who came to it.  The Baron d’Holbach, who never, as I heard of, had been at the Chevrette, was one of the latter.  Had I at that time been as mistrustful as I am since become, I should strongly have suspected Madam d’Epinay to have contrived this journey to give the baron the amusing spectacle of an amorous citizen.  But I was then so stupid that I saw not that even which was glaring to everybody.  My stupidity did not, however, prevent me from finding in the baron a more jovial and satisfied appearance than ordinary.  Instead of looking upon me with his usual moroseness, he said to me a hundred jocose things without my knowing what he meant.  Surprise was painted in my countenance, but I answered not a word:  Madam d’Epinay shook her sides with laughing; I knew not what possessed them.  As nothing yet passed the bounds of pleasantry, the best thing I could had done, had I been in the secret, would have been to have humored the joke.  It is true I perceived amid the rallying gayety of the baron, that his eyes sparkled with a malicious joy, which could have given me pain had I then remarked it to the degree it has since occurred to my recollection.

One day when I went to see Madam d’Houdetot, at Eaubonne, after her return from one of her journeys to Paris, I found her melancholy, and observed that she had been weeping.  I was obliged to put a restraint on myself, because Madam de Blainville, sister to her husband, was present; but the moment I found an opportunity, I expressed to her my uneasiness.  “Ah,” said she, with a sigh, “I am much afraid your follies will cost me the repose of the rest of my days.  St. Lambert has been informed of what has passed, and ill informed of it.  He does me justice, but he is vexed; and what is still worse, he conceals from me a part of his vexation.  Fortunately I have not concealed from him anything relative to our connection which was formed under his auspices.  My letters, like my heart, were full of yourself; I made him acquainted with everything, except your extravagant passion, of which I hoped to cure you; and which he imputes to me as a crime.  Somebody has done us ill offices.  I have been injured, but what does this signify?  Either let us entirely break with each other, or do you be what you ought to be.  I will not in future have anything to conceal from my lover.”