This, since I had taken up my abode at the Hermitage, was my
second journey to Paris. I had made the first to run to poor
Gauffecourt, who had had a stroke of apoplexy, from which he has never
perfectly recovered: I did not quit the side of his pillow until he
was so far restored as to have no further need of my assistance.
Diderot received me well. How many wrongs are effaced by the
embraces of a friend! after these, what resentment can remain in the
heart? We came to but little explanation. This is needless for
reciprocal invectives. The only thing necessary is to know how to
forget them. There had been no underhand proceedings, none at least
that had come to my knowledge: the case was not the same with Madam
d'Epinay. He showed me the plan of the Pere de Famille.* "This,"
said I to him, "is the best defense of the Fils Naturel. Be silent,
give your attention to this piece, and then throw it at the heads of
your enemies as the only answer you think proper to make them." He did
so, and was satisfied with what he had done. I had six months before
sent him the first two parts of my Eloisa to have his opinion upon
them. He had not yet read the work over. We read a part of it
together. He found this feuillet, that was his term, by which he meant
loaded with words and redundancies. I myself had already perceived it;
but it was the babbling of the fever: I have never been able to
correct it. The last parts are not the same. The fourth especially,
and the sixth, are masterpieces of diction.
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