Diderot himself told me several times at the beginning that Grimm in whom I had so much confidence, was not my friend.  He changed his language the moment he was no longer so himself.

The manner in which I had disposed of my children wanted not the concurrence of any person.  Yet I informed some of my friends of it, solely to make it known to them, and that I might not in their eyes appear better than I was.  These friends were three in number:  Diderot, Grimm, and Madam d’Epinay.  Duclos, the most worthy of my confidence, was the only real friend whom I did not inform of it.  He nevertheless knew what I had done.  By whom?  This I know not.  It is not very probable the perfidy came from Madam d’Epinay, who knew that by following her example, had I been capable of doing it, I had in my power the means of a cruel revenge.  It remains therefore between Grimm and Diderot, then so much united, especially against me, and it is probable this crime was common to them both.  I would lay a wager that Duclos, to whom I never told my secret, and who consequently was at liberty to make what use he pleased of his information, is the only person who has not spoken of it again.

Grimm and Diderot, in their project to take from me the governesses, had used the greatest efforts to make Duclos enter into their views; but this he refused to do with disdain.  It was not until sometime afterwards that I learned from him what had passed between them on the subject; but I learned at the time from Theresa enough to perceive there was some secret design, and that they wished to dispose of me, if not against my own consent, at least without my knowledge, or had an intention of making these two persons serve as instruments of some project they had in view.  This was far from upright conduct.  The opposition of Duclos is a convincing proof of it.  They who think proper may believe it to be friendship.

This pretended friendship was as fatal to me at home as it was abroad.  The long and frequent conversations with Madam le Vasseur, for, several years past, had made a sensible change in this woman’s behavior to me, and the change was far from being in my favor.  What was the subject of these singular conversations?  Why such a profound mystery?  Was the conversation of that old woman agreeable enough to take her into favor, and of sufficient importance to make of it so great a secret?  During the two or three years these colloquies had, from time to time, been continued, they had appeared to me ridiculous; but when I thought of them again, they began to astonish me.  This astonishment would have been carried to inquietude had I then known what the old creature was preparing for me.