Whilst my stupidity and awkwardness injured me in her opinion, persons whom she frequently saw and most loved, were far from being disposed to aid me in gaining what I had lost.  The Abbe de Boufflers especially, a young man as lofty as it was possible for a man to be, never seemed well disposed towards me; and besides his being the only person of the society of Madam de Luxembourg who never showed me the least attention, I thought I perceived I lost something with her every time he came to the castle.  It is true that without his wishing this to be the case, his presence alone was sufficient to produce the effect; so much did his graceful and elegant manner render still more dull my stupid propositi.  During the first two years he seldom came to Montmorency, and by the indulgence of Madam de Luxembourg I had tolerably supported myself, but as soon as his visits began to be regular I was irretrievably lost.  I wished to take refuge under his wing, and gain his friendship; but the same awkwardness which made it necessary I should please him prevented me from succeeding in the attempt I made to do it, and what I did with that intention entirely lost me with Madam de Luxembourg, without being of the least service to me with the abbe.  With his understanding he might have succeeded in anything, but the impossibility of applying himself, and his turn for dissipation, prevented his acquiring a perfect knowledge of any subject.  His talents are however various, and this is sufficient for the circles in which he wishes to distinguish himself.  He writes light poetry and fashionable letters, strums on the cithern, and pretends to draw with crayon.  He took it into his head to attempt the portrait of Madam de Luxembourg; the sketch he produced was horrid.  She said it did not in the least resemble her and this was true.  The traitorous abbe consulted me, and I like a fool and a liar, said there was a likeness.  I wished to flatter the abbe, but I did not please the lady who noted down what I had said, and the abbe, having obtained what he wanted, laughed at me in his turn.  I perceived by the ill success of this my late beginning the necessity of making another attempt to flatter ’invita Minerva’.

My talent was that of telling men useful but severe truths with energy and courage; to this it was necessary to confine myself.  Not only I was not born to flatter, but I knew not how to commend.  The awkwardness of the manner in which I have sometimes bestowed eulogium has done me more harm than the severity of my censure.  Of this I have to adduce one terrible instance, the consequences of which have not only fixed my fate for the rest of my life, but will perhaps decide on my reputation throughout all posterity.