to retrench them entirely, because, not being in the manner of the rest, they would have spoiled the interesting simplicity, which was its principal merit.  I had still a stronger reason when I came to know Madam de Luxembourg:  There was in these adventures a Roman marchioness, of a bad character, some parts of which, without being applicable, might have been applied to her by those to whom she was not particularly known.  I was therefore, highly pleased with the determination to which I had come, and resolved to abide by it.  But in the ardent desire to enrich her copy with something which was not in the other, what should I fall upon but these unfortunate adventures, and I concluded on making an extract from them to add to the work; a project dictated by madness, of which the extravagance is inexplicable, except by the blind fatality which led me on to destruction.

‘Quos vult perdere Jupiter dementet.’

I was stupid enough to make this extract with the greatest care and pains, and to send it her as the finest thing in the world; it is true, I at the same time informed her the original was burned, which was really the case, that the extract was for her alone, and would never be seen, except by herself, unless she chose to show it; which, far from proving, to her my prudence and discretion, as it was my intention to do, clearly intimated what I thought of the application by which she might be offended.  My stupidity was such, that I had no doubt of her being delighted with what I had done.  She did not make me the compliment upon it which I expected, and, to my great surprise, never once mentioned the paper I had sent her.  I was so satisfied with myself, that it was not until a long time afterwards, I judged, from other indications, of the effect it had produced.

I had still, in favor of her manuscript, another idea more reasonable, but which, by more distant effects, has not been much less prejudicial to me; so much does everything concur with the work of destiny, when that hurries on a man to misfortune.  I thought of ornamenting the manuscript with the engravings of the New Eloisa, which were of the same size.  I asked Coindet for these engravings, which belonged to me by every kind of title, and the more so as I had given him the produce of the plates, which had a considerable sale.  Coindet is as cunning as I am the contrary.  By frequently asking him for the engravings he came to the knowledge of the use I intended to make of them.  He then, under pretence of adding some new ornament, still kept them from me; and at length presented them himself.

‘Ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores.’